


Sick

by Zeath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Brain Damage, Brain Surgery, Brain tumor, Breeding, Cancer, Chemotherapy, Depressed Stiles, Depression, Derek is a Good Boyfriend, Dirty Talk, Epic Friendship, Graduation, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Head Shaving, Hospitals, Memory Loss, Mood Swings, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW, Needles, Pack Bonding, Panic Attacks, Protective Derek, References to Knotting, Riding, Sad, Seizures, Sexual Frustration, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sick Character, Stiles Feels, Supportive Derek, Supportive John, Supportive Scott, Surgery, Teasing, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10052984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeath/pseuds/Zeath
Summary: 'His dad had been through it before, it almost broke him the first time but this would just destroy him.'Stiles gets sick, it's the worst thing he could ever imagine happening to him. It can't end like this, can it?Or where Stiles has a brain tumor and Derek is the best, supportive boyfriend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I rewatched Teen Wolf and just thought to myself "what if Stiles really did have something in his brain?" so here we are. Sorry if this is depressing as fuck. 
> 
> This story involves Stiles having a brain tumor and going through chemotherapy, if that triggers you please don't read.

Things had been quiet for a little over six months; the nemeton wasn’t dredging up any supernatural nastiness that left the group going on a small adventure that led to not attending school, possibly breaking the law, and a chance of someone getting hurt. No, with the peacefulness it was easy for the pack to finish their last year in high-school, choosing universities that would bring them the best chance at their future jobs, and generally living an average life.

It also gave everyone a chance to settle down into their own relationships; Scott and Kira being reunited after the kistune’s soul finding or whatever in the desert, Malia and Lydia living their happy lives as single and independent women who don’t need a man, Issac picking up Scott’s slack at the veterinary clinic while the alpha went off to college. Stiles? Well he had Derek. Their relationship grown from pining from afar, sneaking into bedrooms, asking small favors as an excuse to see each other. They finally got together when Stiles turned eighteen, thinking he wasn’t going to be a virgin and waiting for the alpha to come to him, and set off to the loft in order to get his man.

It worked, and they spent the next few days in bed with a group text to the pack to do not disturb, unless they wanted to see how flexible Stiles was.

They had been together for a few months now, with Stiles getting letters from all the best universities bribing him the full ride for scholarship if he came to them. Everything was going so well, everyone was happy and things were calming down for the next stages of their lives.

Which was when the headaches started.

It wasn’t much, Stiles woke up with a headache, popped a couple pills to ease the throbbing and started making breakfast. It was forgotten about in a couple hours as the teen drove to the station to help out with cleaning and the possible chance of looking at cases. Stiles decided on his break from school he would work with his dad, since when he left for Berkeley they wouldn’t get many chances to see each other – he’d have to get his dad invested in skype before that. It was only when the teen got another headache once the pills wore off that he got annoyed, and sat out in his father’s office and popped another couple of stronger pills that Jordan had offered. The next day he had yet again another headache and stayed in bed nursing some tea, telling his dad he was probably coming down with a cold, going into the station in the afternoon instead.

This went on for weeks; the headaches coming and going, and every now and again he was get dizzy, sitting down before he fell over. Waving his father off when he felt those worried eyes boring into the back of his head. “I’m fine dad, probably just dizzy from bending down so much.”

In honesty, Stiles didn’t know why it was coming on all of a sudden, and had many thoughts go through his head with every headache, every bout of dizziness. Was this just a cold? Could this be something supernatural? Was he pregnant with Derek’s werewolf baby? – He had been smacked across the arm for that one, “You can’t get pregnant, Stiles.” – with his track record it could be anything.

It was a month of constant dizziness and headaches until he went to the doctor about it, and they had given him a quick check up of his ears along with checking his eyes with a torch, asking full details of how it felt when dizzy or how long the headaches went on for until they finally gave a diagnosis. Vertigo. With a prescription for medication to handle the dizziness, they sent Stiles off on his way.

So he took it easy, taking the medicine when prompted and staying away from the station for a week at most being pampered by Derek – “I’m not an invalid, Derek!” – before he was beginning to get cabin fever and decided to go back to work. Stiles could feel his father’s eyes on him whenever he had to sit down though, but when he turned the sheriff had quickly turned his head away. It was nice that he cared but it was just vertigo, and now he had medication for it, his dad needed to stop being cautious.

After another week, his headaches hadn’t changed but his dizziness went away to a dull wave every now and then that Stiles could handle, but he took another prescription for another dosage in case it went on for longer. If he had to take a pill after he had ridden Derek on the sofa – moaning and knotting inside him to fill him with cum – he could blame it on the rush of sudden movement, keeping to his story no matter what those eyebrows said.

When an officer politely notified him that his shirt was round the wrong way, Stiles just laughed it off and swapped it around, only to be told by his father in the morning when he came down the stairs that his trousers were backwards. Frowning, the teen tugged them down and pulled them up his legs the right way. “How embarrassing, glad you told me about that before I left the house, daddio.”

“Are you sure you’re alright, son?” That tone, obvious worry but a blanket attempt of nonchalance that Stiles saw straight through after growing up with his dad and knowing all his little hidden emotions. Grabbing the mug of coffee his father handed to him and taking a hefty gulp, closing his eyes to take in the sweet buzz of caffeine to wake him up.

“Maybe I was too tired to realise. Stop worrying and I’ll see you after breakfast.” He lifted the mug to prove a point, the sheriff rolling his eyes and grabbing his keys before leaving to the station. Stiles had finished his mug and toast, pouring the jug of steamy goodness into a carry cup before he felt another wave of dizziness. So strong he had to sit down for a second, only to then jump up and run to the sink before vomiting up his stomach contents. Dry heaving until the room stopped spinning, Stiles grabbed his phone and texted his dad to let him know he wouldn’t be in until later before heading back upstairs to sleep, the carrier cup left forgotten to get cold.

\--

It was a month after puking in the sink that Derek started following the sheriff’s lead to be worried. He wanted Stiles to sit down and relax with every chance he could get, he even went to the trouble of going to the police station every lunch to make sure his boyfriend hadn’t passed out or puked his guts out. Stiles got ginger cookies out of it, which was a plus.

But he’d noticed how quick his moods were changing, without anything to prompt it. It was strange and while Stiles was trying to think up logical ways to how he could be so quick to act out but nothing came to mind. He’d snapped at Scott for taking his packet of crisps for fuck sake, it was something so meaningless, something they do all the time ever since they were kids. Yet he had this massive bubble of frustration build up until he yanked the packet away from his friend, glaring and shouting at him. “Get your _own_ damn food for once!”

The bubble was gone as quick as it arrived, leaving Stiles to watch Scott’s face flinch back and shrug out an apology. He didn’t know what else he could do but pass the packet back and give him his best puppy eyes – not as good at his best buddies but still – it was enough and with a cautious reach to have another crisp, they changed their subject to something more light-hearted.

That wasn’t the only time, his father was the next target; Stiles had cooked them dinner one night, meatloaf and vegetables when he saw the cringe on his father’s face when he turned around. That same spark of anger filling him and Stiles just dropped the plate on the table, sitting down with his own dinner. “If you don’t like what I _slave_ over for you then you can throw it out and get your own dinner.”

The look of pure shock on John’s face along with the flicker of fatherly temper was enough to bring Stiles out of whatever funk he was in, sitting upright and spewing out apologies. His dad stayed quiet for a moment longer before nodding picking up the vegetables that had fallen off the plate in their drop to the table. “I’m sorry too, I know you work hard. Just don’t let that happen again.”

With that they ate their meal in silence, Stiles still feeling bad about his outburst. Maybe he’d make him steak tomorrow as a small apology, knowing his father wouldn’t pass up red meat when given to him. He excused himself to his room after that, feeling so bad about lashing out over something so small.

\--

Stiles had decided to spend the night over at the loft, rolling in the sheets with his werewolf until they were soaked with bodily fluids. He was pinned under Derek, panting out his name over and over as the alpha pounded into him, a firm grip on his hips keeping him still. He came sobbing into the pillow, the sheet under him getting drenched in another round of cum splashing on it before Derek grunted out his own climax, pressing in as deep as he could go before releasing his load in the teen.

They rolled over with the werewolf still inside, Derek’s chest pressing up against his back and dry lips kissing his shoulder sweetly. Stiles closed his eyes with a smile across his own when he heard the alpha breathe in his scent, probably not the best smell to take in at the moment but Derek had a thing for Stiles smelling like him, being marked as his, so he didn’t mind.

It was only when he felt the man tense behind him that he opened his eyes again. Derek smelled him once again, then pulled his dick out and sat up, pulling the teen up to sniff all over him. He was going to ask what’s wrong when Derek spoke up, a hint of confusion and distress spiking his voice. “You don’t smell right.”

“Well yeah, we just fucked, I probably smell of sex, sweat and jizz.” Stiles tried to play it off as a joke, but when he turned his head he saw how crumpled the alpha’s face was, and held out his hand to hold. “What do I smell like then?”

“No, you don’t smell good. Not like yourself. You smell…” Derek started investigating, his nose getting to work at inhaling his scent and trying to think up the words. Biting his bottom lip, Stiles tried to stay quiet but the coil of anxiety in his stomach was most likely being taken into account along with whatever Derek was trying to get across. “Sick.”

Now that got to him; they’d both had been telling him that he was unwell from all the headaches and vomiting whenever the dizziness got too intense for him to handle, that he should have another opinion. But the doctor had already told him that he had vertigo, he just had to ride it out. “Sick like how?”

“I don’t know, just sick. Go to the doctor tomorrow, please Stiles.” It was the pleading look in Derek’s eyes that finally brought Stiles to losing, letting out a long sigh before nodding and calling the hospital for an appointment with whoever would be available for tomorrow.

Derek accompanied him to the hospital, a wall of stability when Stiles’ anxiety was probably filling his nostrils every second he breathed. If he was choking on it then who knows how Derek was fairing with his werewolf nose. He made the wrong turn to the hospital he was that panicked, getting lost and letting Derek take over. How could he forget where he was going? He’d been driving for so long and he knew the street signs, knew Beacon Hills’ streets like the back of his hands since he was twelve. He doesn’t know what was happening to him, head slotting between his legs while trying to breathe.

They arrived five minutes late but the doctor wasn’t ready anyway, giving Stiles time to calm down in the waiting room while Derek rubbed his back trying to sooth his boyfriend. They stayed there for another ten minutes until the doctor collected him, Derek an unmovable force next to him. They sat in the office as the doctor waited for Stiles to say something, anything, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from becoming increasingly interested in the floor. “Mr Stilinski, it must be urgent if you booked your appointment yesterday. Is anything bothering you that I need to be concerned about?”

When Stiles didn’t speak up, Derek did it for him with a hand resting on his shoulder. “Stiles has been dizzy, has had headaches for a couple months now. He’s vomited because of the dizziness.”

The doctor nodded and went through her computer, clicking through the files there. Reading through the diagnosis Stiles’ doctor had wrote from his last visit. “You got treated for vertigo says here, two prescriptions. Is the dizziness getting worse?”

“That’s not all.” Stiles sat up, breathing out and taking his boyfriend’s hand, his own shaking. He hadn’t told Derek this but from the small rise of his eyebrows it was a shock to him, the doctor wouldn’t know his shock but Stiles knew all of his facial expressions by now. “I’ve been getting worse. My emotions – I’ve been getting so angry lately, I shouted at my dad and my friend over small things. I’ve been feeling anxious, and had a few panic attacks which I haven’t had for years since my mother… I’ve seen there are changes to me. They’re like hers, but a little different.”

The doctor nodded along with him as she typed, then checked his ears for blockage, his eyes with a torch once more like before. Derek didn’t let go of his hand, even when it went clammy with sweat, it must have taken everything for the alpha not to protect Stiles from the world, with the fear wafting off him. After asking if Stiles had sicknesses in the family that she should know of, Stiles froze and gulped thickly, speaking so quietly he thought the doctor wouldn’t be able to hear him. “My mother. She uh, she had frontotemporal dementia.”

With that the doctor’s demeanour changed, she started clicking on her computer once more with a deep frown before printing off a couple slips of paper and handing them over. When reading what she put down he almost vomited right there, handing it to Derek because he couldn’t hold onto it, couldn’t look at it. An MRI, a biopsy, imaging tests, the whole shebang. He was going to be sick he just knew it. “We’re going to run some tests, just to rule out some things. You’ll come back here when you’re done and we can go over the results.”

With that, she sent them on their way to the rooms listed on the paper. Stiles could barely keep himself from just sitting down and weeping into the nearest chair, Derek’s hand strong against his keeping him grounded. When it hit him; his dad. _Fuck_ , he hadn’t told his dad any of this, quickly scrambling in his pocket for his phone and going through his contacts and pausing on his father’s number. He couldn’t do it, didn’t have the strength to say he was getting tested for what he knows they’re looking for. His dad had been through it before, it almost broke him the first time but this would just destroy him. “I can’t, Derek I can’t…”

“Okay, it’s okay.” Honestly his boyfriend was a lifesaver, taking the phone from him and calling him when they got to radiology section of the hospital. Derek was his rock at the moment, doing everything for him and when his father picked up he was so calm, voice steady as Stiles rested his weight on the alpha’s side. He could hear his dad’s voice rise in panic through the speaker, but Derek didn’t waver, didn’t let it get to him as he explained everything, and hung up once they finished talking. “Your dad’s coming.”

Slipping the phone into his own pocket, Derek led him into the room and handed over the papers to the lady at the desk. They only had to wait a little while until they were both brought into the room that Stiles had dreaded the most. He doesn’t really know what happened, some kind of dissociation that brought him to a happier place, at the loft with Derek, cuddled up on the sofa and watching Iron Man, playing video games with Scott and Kira – that girl’s reflexes can beat the both of them it was so unfair – or spending time with his dad in the office eating lunch and laughing as he makes that face of complete sadness at the bowlful of salad he has to eat once he’s picked out all the chicken pieces.

The next thing he knew, he was in Derek’s arms and his father was there talking quickly enough to the doctor that he couldn’t focus on it. They were back in the doctor’s office apparently now that he’s looked around, his eyes darting back to the doctor and the screen she was pointing at. She’d turned the computer round so they could all see his MRI scan, and the small but terrifyingly white dot in his head. It didn’t look that big, but they all knew what it was, even if they couldn’t understand completely. His ears cleared of white noise to pick up the doctor’s steady voice trying to calm his dad down. “We caught it early, we’ll put him on steroids to try and bring down the swelling–.”

Stiles faded out again after that, Derek taking him out once another appointment was made a week later. Scott was in the waiting room – Stiles doesn’t know who called him, probably Derek – standing up once they got close enough and enveloping Stiles in a hug that brought the tears he didn’t know he was holding in until now. He sobbed into his best friend’s shoulder in the middle of the waiting room, surrounded by the people who loved him and not caring who saw, because he needed to, because he couldn’t stop himself, because he had a brain tumor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has graphic detail about chemo and cancer, along with general angst. Trigger warning, please read the tags!

When Stiles arrived home things were a blur of people walking around him, Scott trying to find some way of changing the subject to distract him, Derek holding his hand like an unbreakable force. He wasn’t worried about them at the moment, because when the teen looked up at his dad, he saw the pure heartbreak in his eyes. He’d already gone through his wife’s death, watching her deteriorate until nothing could be helped, he didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye, and now his son was like this. He was _broken_.

He was probably going to die.

Derek frogmarched him to the sofa, sitting him down while putting the contents of the bag he was holding – he had to take _steroids_ – to the kitchen. His eyes flickered to the two men talking quietly to each other, the alpha’s hand resting on his dad’s shoulder reassuringly but Scott’s voice brought him out of eavesdropping. “You’ll get through this dude, and we’ll all be behind you on this.”

Scott was trying so hard to make Stiles feel better about this, to give him hope that things would e alright but right now, only finding out the worst thing that could happen to him not even a couple hours ago, he just wanted to wallow. He would be strong some other time. Standing up, Stiles started for the stairs, watching at Scott followed him with an arm stretched out as if to grab him. “I’m not dead yet, just leave me alone.”

He should have felt sorry or apologised when his friend flinched back, but he wasn’t, and he didn’t. Carrying on up the stairs to his room he heard his father talk to Scott – “he’s hurting, let him come to terms with this.” – and a pang of guilt hit him, quickly fading into exhaustion as he entered his room. He would be a better son, a better friend and a better boyfriend tomorrow, right now he just needed to sleep it all off. He wanted to fade away from this world just for a little while, and not have to deal with this outcome. So without a due, Stiles kicked off his shoes, flopped on the bed without taking off the rest of his clothes and curled up into a ball, pulling the covers over his body in hopes the blanket would protect him from the outside.

With all the drama, panic attacks and stress he’s had to handle today it didn’t take long for him to finally close his eyes and drift off into his dreams, filled with a life much happier than his own.

\--

Over the coming week, Scott had sent messages and called the pack to alert them all of the news. So it didn’t take long for Stiles’ phone to blow up with encouraging messages, a couple food baskets filled with his favorite snacks, and Isaac dropping by unannounced just to see how things were. He could have lied, said he was doing great and joked about all the attention he was getting, but he didn’t feel like doing any of that. Instead, Stiles dragged his duvet down the stairs to the sofa, stole the food baskets and curled up watching movies for days.

Derek had practically moved in, whenever Stiles woke up from his daydreaming he was there. Handing him a glass of milk and his dosage of steroids, along with painkillers for the headaches, or tucking the covers under his legs tighter to keep him warm. He could have argued against his alpha taking care of him like this, but didn’t have the energy to fight about it. He was on a set time for pill popping; steroids with a milk and food to help it not destroy his stomach, and an hour later another pill to protect his stomach lining, pain killers for the headaches, and anti-nausea pills for when he gets too dizzy and needs to vomit.

Stiles had been going in and out of sleepiness, but not actual dreaming since the first night he came home from the hospital. He wanted to find out why, but Derek wouldn’t let him near the internet, even going so far as to unplug the router. Whenever the teen tries to argue, he just shakes his head sternly. “You’ll just find things that will make you feel worse.”

Stiles threw his phone at Derek in frustration, but the werewolf caught it before it could make contact. Fucking supernatural reflexes.

Going back to the hospital was bad enough, he didn’t even want to get off the sofa but his dad was there as support, taking the shift off work to accompany him and Derek. They scanned him once more, checking if the pills were making even a small amount of difference. The doctor said it was too soon to tell but it hasn’t grown – what was the point of making that appointment then? – and they would have another appointment in a few weeks’ time to see if there’s been a change. That was the second time Stiles had cried, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes in hopes the salty tears would stop coming. He didn’t even know why he was crying, but both his father and Derek’s hands were on his back, soothing him through it.

When the three of then returned home, Stiles was greeted by the pack; Lydia and Cora were in the kitchen making fuck knows what, while Malia was helping herself to the snacks Stiles had left in the basket. Isaac was the first to stand and envelope Stiles in a hug, nuzzling his cheek to scent mark. They were all quick to join in, most of them not knowing what to say apart from Malia, who spoke up once it was her turn for a hug. “Sorry about the cancer.”

Stiles froze in place, chest tightening because it wasn’t cancer. _Not yet,_ a small part of him spoke in the back of his head, and Scott was quick to move the werecoyote from him, even when she began to apologise noticing how tense he’d gotten. It didn’t help any, and could feel the spiral of a panic attack grabbing at the seams of his lungs. He tried swallowing, to think of something else, anything. But all that was running in his head now was the tumor; was it benign or cancerous? Would he be stuck in the hospital like his mother? Hooked to drips and tubes and monitors.

He felt arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing his back to press against Derek’s firm chest, grumbling protectively. Stiles doesn’t know why it calms him down but the vibrating rumble against his skin breaks him out of the rising fog of anxiety. He sits in the spot he’s commandeered for the past few days, his covers pooled on the floor that Kira was sitting on. He didn’t care, not with the furnace of werewolf heat surrounding him to keep him warm.

They spend the rest of the day watching movies that Stiles has picked out, Lydia didn’t even complain once and Stiles had ate a bowlful of pasta bake that the girls had been concocting in the kitchen. He didn’t realise he had fallen asleep until he felt movement on his legs, some of the pack getting up to leave for the night – where had the day gone? – and didn’t want to disturb him. So much for that. The only ones left were Scott, Derek, Kira and Isaac, his dad was probably upstairs asleep or doing the nightshift at the station. He didn’t want to move, so snuggled down once more with a grunt, overhearing some chuckles but he was too tired to care about what they thought or how he looked.

Apparently they had spent the night with him because when he woke up from the sun casting light on his face, he was tucked up in his covers with Derek’s head on his shoulder, Isaac at his feet and the two lovebirds sharing his dad’s lazy chair, Scott’s head tipped back and snoring softly. For the first time since he was diagnosed, Stiles felt a swell of affection for his pack and knew that they’d support him through everything. He was in for a long ride and there was a chance he wouldn’t make it, but this was his family, his pack, and they would love him no matter what.

\--

It was difficult but Stiles had tried to stick to a routine, knowing that when times get tough he couldn’t just sit around and wait to die like he had done the week before. He made himself get up at eight in the morning every day, to cook himself and whoever was there when he was breakfast, to then take his pills with a glass of milk, and then do something productive that day. It was strange, but he could feel himself getting _more_ hungry than before, as if that was possible. They didn’t have a scales but he’s sure he would have put on some weight, not that anyone would say anything to him about it.

Derek has finally lifted the ban of internet now that he had gotten his mind around the diagnosis, but kept an eye on him in case he needed to take it away again. The first thing he did was go to all his social media to check on updates, and to see if anyone had squealed about him. Depressingly enough he got the same amount of anonymity as per usual for someone who doesn’t go outside of his circle of friends, besides a couple drag queen friends he had met at Jungle.

He knows he shouldn’t have looked; really, with all the protectiveness Derek was trying to put on him should have been enough to ease him from finding out. But no, here he was, trying to be sneaky so he guard wolf wouldn’t catch on that he was looking up the risks of tumors and the percentage of people that die from it. Sixteen thousand people died of it in one year alone, and the thought of that he could be one in the list of thousand who could die brought a spike of fear through him. He wasn’t quick enough to douse it though and soon enough Derek stepped closer, taking his phone from him and sighing when he read what the teen was searching. “You’re not going to die, Stiles.”

“How would _you_ know?” It wasn’t like the alpha was some kind of psychic werewolf, and Stiles was just being realistic. That’s his story and he’s sticking to it. Slumping back in the chair, Stiles pouted like a child and watched as the wolf sat down on the seat next to him, setting the phone face first on the kitchen table.

“Because I won’t let you.” Derek’s voice was firm, an edge that could have been portrayed as harsh, but Stiles knew his boyfriend was just as emotional as he was. He wasn’t going through this alone he had to remember that. The man reached out, warm hands resting on top of Stiles’ lanky ones with a downturned face, as if it was painful to even say it. “If things were to… Go south. I could, with your permission, I can give you the bite.”

“Derek –.” Stiles started, but was quickly spoken over, leaving the teen to quieten down to his boyfriend’s speech.

“I know it’s negative thinking but I need to put it out there, just so you know. Just in case. If you wanted to, I could do it.” His face was trying to remain stoic but was quickly crumbling; it was obvious that Derek wanted to keep Stiles around. He had to take that into account, the kitchen was quiet for minutes while Stiles thought about Derek’s proposal before taking a deep breath and letting it out while stroking his thumb over the wolf’s hand.

“I know it’s hard. Fuck do I know, but… I don’t want to be turned. If I do, uh.” It was hard to even say it, eyes brimming with tears as he stared down at their entwined hands. Taking another deep breath and shaking his head, Stiles lifted his eyes once more to face his alpha. “If my light goes out then it’ll be as a human.”

The silence returned, but this time it was enough for the both of them. They knew words couldn’t lift the situation, and while there would be an ache in both of their chests that would potentially grow as time went on, they were content to spend the time together in love. “I’m still turning off the internet.”

“ _Derek_!”

\--

After being a month on the steroids, Derek notices vast changes in Stiles’ behaviour. He started to frown when telling a story, like he’s struggling to remember what happened, and gets frustrated a lot quicker than before. Even going so far as to lash out at someone, most of the time it was him since he’s been the one by his side since the beginning.

Those were small but enough for him to notice after being with the teenager for long enough. What was troubling Derek more was when Stiles drove, it didn’t matter where; the station, the store, Scott’s house. He always called up saying he’s lost. Derek had to go out and find him, asking for street signs that the teen could look at that would give him a clue but by that point Stiles was halfway into a panic attack and didn’t know left from right. He didn’t say it often, but seeing Stiles like this frightened him.

He tried to talk Stiles out of driving, until he got better, but the teen had shut that down as soon as he said it. Along with a few choice words that were quick to turn into apologies, they both agreed someone would be in the passenger seat with him when he drove, so if he got lost again then he had an anchor to hold onto.

He could tell that it was affecting the sheriff, though the man was trying to hide it from his son. He wasn’t sure Stiles had even noticed the concerned eyes watching him but if he did then he never said anything about it. Derek wasn’t even sure the sheriff was going to mention anything until one night after another sleepover, who was he kidding he practically lived here now. When Stiles was curled up asleep with The Avengers playing in the background, John had pulled Derek away for a talk, reeking of stress. “Have you noticed anything? About Stiles.”

“Specifically?” He didn’t want to give much away, not when it was something to delicately sensitive as Stiles’ health. Especially when John looked plain tired, it was obvious the man was struggling with the diagnosis and trying to keep a brave face around his son. It was hard on everyone involved, all in different ways.

John sighed sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands as he went through all the different ticks that Stiles had been doing since it all began. The headaches getting worse, while he want vomiting he was still intensely dizzy, the mood swings, the forgetfulness. “I can’t watch him like this, it’s killing me. It’s turning out to be like Claudia.”

Derek watched as the sheriff turned his head towards the locked cabinet. Stiles had mentioned how he had to hide all the alcohol, growing up with his dad’s addiction after his wife died and moved so he was blocking the path. John glanced up at him and nodded his head, turning away and letting out a deep sigh. “My wife used to forget a lot, sometimes she didn’t even know who Stiles was. It was hard for everyone. I don’t want him to end up the same way. Is there something you can do?”

“We’ve already spoken about giving him the bite. He didn’t want to, I respect that.” It was partly true, he couldn’t force Stiles to take the bite, it wasn’t what they did. But it did crush him when the dark thoughts turn it around to make it look like Stiles would rather die a human than be alive as a werewolf. That wasn’t the case, but it didn’t stop his thoughts shadowing.

“Well, I’m glad he’s got you.” With that statement, John nodded his head once more and rubbed his temples and eased into a yawn. Standing up and patting Derek’s shoulder as he passed him to the living room, leaning down to kiss his son’s head carefully so he wouldn’t wake up – Stiles was such a light sleeper nowadays, whereas before there could be an earthquake and the teen would still be snoring away – and went upstairs to his own room.

Derek stayed at the table for another hour while Stiles slept peacefully in the other room, thinking about the journey they had ahead of them and tried to keep positive thoughts. It was tough, with the internal war waging on but he knew it was worse for the teen, and had to support him even if it meant his needs and wants came second.

\--

The appointment finally arrived, and Stiles had to wrestle free from Scott who insisted he come along for moral support. Even if he couldn’t come with him into the office, he could zone into the conversation from the waiting room and be there when they came out, that was good enough for him. Stiles had been praying to whoever was out there that things would be better, that he could get a stroke of luck, _something_.

His dad and Derek were in the booth with the radiologist when he was being scanned, mind drifting off as he waited for it to finish. It was difficult to stay still, his toes wiggling every now and again. He doesn’t know why his whole body had to remain still when they were only looking at his brain, logically he knew it was because of nerves or something in his brain lighting up whenever he moved, but it was still stupid. It was almost bliss when the machine started pulling him out and he was able to move around again, sitting up and stretching, turning his head to the booth.

He saw how his father leaned forward when the radiologist pointed to the screen, at how crestfallen his face became and started to fill with panic. What was wrong with him? Was it worse than before? Derek came through and into the room before he could sink further into his own thoughts, letting the alpha wrap his arms around his waist and help him off the machine. “It’s bad isn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything but Stiles knew silence was worse than not answering at all. They didn’t speak until they were in the doctor’s office once more, with the scans being transferred to her computer so she could explain it properly to him. The dot he remembers from before was now the size of his fingernail and he had to look away, how could be not notice something like that going on in his head? He heard his dad’s breath hitch and speak to the doctor, obviously trying to keep his emotions in check. “I thought the steroids were supposed to stop growth.”

“Sometimes the tumor can be more aggressive than the medication, and now we know that it’s malignant we can treat it accordingly.” She was trying to sound positive but Stiles couldn’t understand how she can be so chipper about it. He had brain cancer, that’s what she was saying.

“Can you explain it? _Someone_ hasn’t let me on the internet to research.” Stiles side eyes Derek, watching as the werewolf kept his eyes forward, not sorry in the slightest.

The doctor smiled at his attempt at being light-hearted and answered all the questions he fired at her; he has a malignant tumor that would grow if not treated, they would be putting him on chemotherapy after doing some deeper tests on which type of drug would best suit his needs and with that knowledge came how often he would need to take the drug, he wouldn’t need to stay in the hospital through it all unless something alerted them about his health. He would need to get regular tests to see how his body was handling chemo and scans to view the tumor growth.

It was a lot to take in but the doctor handed over a couple leaflets that explained most of what she just explained. He didn’t think he was going to ask, more of a cliché really but he needed to know. Keeping a tight grip on Derek’s hand, Stiles swallowed thickly and asked his final question. “Will I survive this?”

She didn’t think he would ask that, and blinked in surprise for a moment before giving him her best determined smile. “We’re going to do everything we can.”

With that, they were led out for Stiles to be poked and prodded by needles, urine tests, blood tests, skin samples, full history of medical files. It was a mess, and he just wanted to go to sleep. Derek has listened attentively to each doctor and nurse that they encountered to get a range of knowledge about what Stiles was about to go through. On his way to have another blood test, Scott met them in the hallway, arm wrapping around his waist in a silent support. They wouldn’t get the treatment until all the tests came back and the doctors agreed on the correct dosage and what drug and it was all so confusing for him. “I need a nap.”

“We all do.” Scott joked as a nurse tied his arm and prodded for another vein to be assaulted. Letting Stiles squeeze his hand at the pinch of the needle going in. They all tried to distract him from the tortures of hospital nurses, and Stiles almost cried when he saw Melissa come through with some tests, giving him a hug before making him pee in a cup for what felt like the hundredth time in an hour. “It’s only been twice dude.”

“Shut up I’m allowed to be grumpy.” Stiles waved the cup at his friend, laughing when the werewolf scrunched his nose up and tried to evade any spillage. After three hours in the hospital they were finally free, being told to keep their phones on standby for their call to come in when they get the results.

When they got hoe it wasn’t a surprise that Stiles went straight upstairs to bed, not even bothering to talk to anyone. John followed him up; he was due at the station in a couple of hours and decided to have a shower and a snack before then. The two werewolves were downstairs, Scott getting comfortable on the sofa and starting up a movie and turning it low enough for his supernatural ears to pick up, knowing that Stiles could wake up from the drop of a pin. It didn’t take long for Derek to also head upstairs to check on the teen, carrying the covers that Stiles had forgotten to pick up from the sofa.

When he pushed the door open, Stiles was face down on the bed hugging his pillow, his shoes still on. The alpha got to work with undressing his boyfriend, hearing Stiles whine and grumble as he was moved accordingly to get the articles of clothing off. Without further ado, Derek also undressed and slid under the covers to warm the teen up, making sure to tuck Stiles in and kiss his head. For a moment, he just laid there and watched Stiles sleep too exhausted to even dream no doubt, his eyelashes delicate against his cheeks, lips parted as he breathed deeply with every couple of breaths a soft snore being heard.

He wanted to protect Stiles from the worst of it; the afternoon was as painful for him as it was for Stiles, as if the needles were going in him too. He wanted to take Stiles’ pain, to take the tumor away, give the teenager his life back so he could be calm once more. Could go to university, could carry on with the job at the station, could do whatever he wanted with his life without feeling the weight of _cancer_ and chemo and stress on his shoulders. The werewolf stroked his thumb gently over Stiles’ cheek, watching his face twitch and breathing shallow before relaxing once more. Derek made a promise right then and there that he would do his best to give Stiles his life back, whatever it took.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of chemo involvement with this chapter, just a warning!

When Stiles woke up he wasn’t expecting a mass between his legs and a heat over his dick. He wasn’t complaining though and through the fog of sleep he fumbled his hand down to run his fingers through the hair that was no doubt Derek’s. Closing his eyes once more, Stiles let out a rush of air and enjoyed the moment of being pampered, those lips bobbing up and down his length steadily. Taking his time, the alpha pulled off to lap at the tip of Stiles’ cock, licking the precum beading there.

“Der…” He doesn’t even remember when he started panting out his name, chest arching up while his hips were pinned to the mattress by heavy hands. The mouth sucking him back down to the base and bringing another moan to the surface. Stiles’ other hand found its way into Derek’s hair, cupping the back of his head to gently urge him to take more if that was possible. Somehow it was, feeling the odd flick of the werewolf’s tongue along the base.

The boiling in his stomach was almost ready to go over, if Stiles’ whimpering groans were enough to tell by. Half asleep the teen warned Derek, but the man but picked up the pace until he was finally cumming, hands holding the alpha’s head tight against his hips, feeling his mouth work as he swallowed everything Stiles released. He kept going, pulling back a little to suck at the tip until Stiles finally let go and whined about the oversensitivity. Derek chuckled, letting go with a pop and letting the cock flop limply against the teen’s hairy thigh before climbing up the bed and popping his head out from the covers hair askew from Stiles’ fingers gripping it. “What was that for?”

“Just something I wanted to do.” Leaning down over Stiles’ pliant body, Derek captured the teen’s lip in a gentle kiss tasting of morning breath and spunk. He moved back from the teenager’s wandering hands as he tried to return the favour, at least give him a handjob or something but Derek pulled away from those plump lips and nuzzle their noses together.

Stiles had to pull away as a laugh bubbled up, resting his hands against his boyfriend’s firm chest. “I tasted my own cum, gross.”

“You love it.” Derek murmured while rolling off the teen’s body and onto his side, a heavy arm resting on Stiles’ stomach as they laid there listening to the world outside of their room. The birds chirping, the sound of clanking downstairs that must have been his father attempting to cook himself breakfast. Stiles should feel a little bad that he hadn’t been keeping an eye on his dad’s diet; the man was probably taking advantage of being independent to eat as much greasy food as he could, he’d have to look into that.

Still, not the time for that. Stiles turned on his side too and took in Derek’s face; the way the sunlight casted on the back of his head as light shone through the cracks of his hair creating an effect of glowing. His smile wasn’t plastered on, but a tiny raise on his lips that any normal person would have to search for to find it, but Stiles could see it clear as day. Leaning in once more, Stiles pecked the wolf’s lips, returning his own tired yet fully satisfied smiles. “Yeah I do.”

They didn’t last long, Stiles sitting up and wanting to find out why it had gotten silent downstairs – “I swear if my dad has melted the pots again I’m not going to be a happy bunny.” – tugging up a pair of pyjama pants and opening the door. Derek followed shortly after with just his underwear on. When they got downstairs they took in the sight of Scott at the stove while John was sipping the coffee, the smell of burn meat wafting in the air. “Damn it dad.”

“Don’t worry dude! I saved most of the bacon!” Scott’s chipper voice radiated, it was always a surprise how the guy could be so cheerful in the early mornings. Stiles chanced a look at his dad that was ever so obviously avoiding his son’s eyes while reading the newspaper, and he never read that thing. When Scott turned around though he scrunched his nose up at the smell they must have been fanning around then since the morning blowjob, and waved his hands at the two of them, his cheeks flushing pink. “ _Dude_! Really?”

Stiles just batted him out the way to look at the damage; some of the bacon was salvageable, other pieces being scooped out and left on the side. The eggs were left in the pot, black and completely ruined. Taking the pot off the stove and dumping the remains in the trash, he repeated himself while glancing back at his father who was still avoiding any and all knowledge of the crime scene. “I say again, _damn it dad_.”

“I know nothing.”

“Sure thing, Manuel.” He then got to work at their breakfast, getting Scott to keep watch on the bacon while he was cleaning out the pot, then collecting new eggs and cracking them. Derek  went back up the stairs to collect their phones while waiting for them to finish, not wanting to miss the call from the hospital just in case, and sat down at the table after pouring Stiles a cup of coffee, not wanting to get in the way of the bustling teenagers.

Not long after taking control of the kitchen, the four of them were stuffing their faces with edible food. Stiles thinking his question over in his head before speaking up, he would probably be shut down either by Derek or his dad but he had to ask. He was beginning to get cabin fever and needed to get out. “I was thinking about coming down to the station this afternoon, helping out again.”

His father stopped eating mid-forkful and faced his son, already doing the eyebrows of uncertainty. Derek kept quiet, not knowing which side he should be on. After chewing and swallowing his mouthful in thought, the sheriff tried to act interested but t only came out as concerned. “You sure you’re up to that?”

“It’s not hard, dad. I’ll be fine.” He nodded his thanks to the alpha when Derek presented him with his concoction of pills for the day along with a tall glass of milk for it to go down with. He finished his breakfast before anyone else, swigging the pills down with a gulp and wiping his lips of a milk moustache. He knew by the look on his dad’s face that he was trying his best to be supportive about letting him continue but the fatherly protectiveness was getting in the way and wanting him to be safe at home where he could be looked after by Derek and whoever else came by to greet him. “If you want, you can check up on me every now and again. Make sure I’m doing my job right.”

He knew how to twist his father’s arm into doing what he wanted; giving him a long list of pros and only a couple cons that he could mull over to see the obvious divide that would end up with Stiles getting his way. The teen could already see the cogs working in his dad’s head as he stood up and went to clean the dishes. Scott was quick to drop his dirty plate with the pile in the sink and rush away with a snort when Stiles tried to kick at his legs. “I think it’ll be alright as long as you’re in the same room as someone. You’re not going into the back without accompaniment. Also, I’m driving you there and back.”

“Deal.” It was the best he was going to get, and flicked soapy bubbles at Derek when the alpha came up behind him and kissed his shoulder, slyly slipping his own plate in the water. They made arrangements that when Stiles felt it was the right time to leave, he would text his dad, and if he wasn’t available then someone else from the station would come to pick him up. It was a little frustrating since he could just drive to the station himself, but knowing his track record for getting lost in the past months he knew he wasn’t going to get away with it. His jeep was probably going to collect dust.

It’ll give Derek a chance to be by himself, go back to his loft and do whatever it was that the werewolf did when he wasn’t watching Stiles’ every move. The loft had been unused for almost two months now, with the off chance of Derek going back for a few pairs of clean clothes in a bag and putting the dirty ones wherever they were, probably in a hamper to create mould until it was so unbearable he had to burn it. That’s what Stiles would do if his dad didn’t remind him.

He did feel bad when he realised that Derek was so worried about him that he didn’t feel safe going home where Stiles wouldn’t be watched, just in case something happened while his dad was on the nightshift and he was home alone. He doesn’t know what he would get up to but it was enough for Derek to worry about. He was just glad his dad didn’t put up a fuss about their relationship to stop the constant sleepovers. He was pretty pleased at how his father had taken their relationship, it seemed nothing surprised him anymore after finding out about the supernatural. He just had one rule; no sex under his roof.

They broke the rule in the first week it was said, but neither of them was going to admit that. What his father didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

He bid farewell to his dad, watching him leave before jumping on the sofa and grumbling to Scott about the mess he’s made overnight, packets of snacks littered around the coffee table. He was quickly forgiving when he saw a bowl of crisps coming his way, reaching out and making grabby hands until the other teen relented and handed it over. They just set up to watch Thor when Derek leaned over the couch to kiss the top of his head. “I’ll be off then.”

“Like that? Wouldn’t want you to scar my neighbours.” Stiles turned his head watched Derek’s ass flex in his unfairly tight underwear as he walked to the stairs, his mouth filling with drool before swallowing thickly and shoving a handful of crisps into his mouth. Speaking around the snack, he turned around and spoke softly, knowing both werewolves could hear him just fine. “Second thoughts, they’ll try and steal you away.”

“Dude you’re so gross.” Scott reached over and grabbed his own handful, bringing his legs up on the sofa and crossing them. He tended to use his hands as a cup to hold food while picking from his palm with his fingers, it was always something he did since they were kids. Stiles blames himself since he was usually the one stealing the snack bowl or the candy, so Scott had to go into survival mode.

Wiggling his cold toes under his friend’s thigh in order to warm them up, Stiles snorted and threw a crisp at Scott, watching as the wolf searched for it and put it in his hand cup. The scavenger. “I’m getting back at you for all the times you’ve made me bleach my thoughts.”

Coming down the stairs with his overnight bag that turned out to be over-month-bag, Derek passed Stiles his phone and lifted his chin to peck his lips. Bringing his arms up to grab at the alpha’s cheeks to keep him there and lengthening the kiss until he heard Scott make gagging sound, pulling away and shoving him with his foot. With another kiss on the top of his head, the alpha left to go do alpha things. Maybe work on his eyebrow game, work out his overly muscled muscles, catch up on glaring at himself in the mirror.

It was a little strange not having Derek around after having him be an extra limb but Stiles quickly focused on the movie, all other thoughts fading out momentarily to the action on the screen. His head was throbbing but after months of dealing with this searing pain, he’d learned to ignore it with a couple pills and the hope that he’ll get chemo soon to shrink the freaking golf ball inside his head. Alright, maybe it wasn’t as big as a golf ball, maybe a couple marbles put together. It was still dangerous.

He should stop thinking about it. 

Instead, Stiles wiggled his toes free from under Scott’s thigh and set them on his friend’s lap, lying down on the sofa with his head pillowed and the snack bowl placed delicately on his side. No time to think about tumors when Chris Hemsworth was flipping his hair all graceful and swinging his tool around while Hawkeye shot an unlimited amount of arrows, Stiles never really understood where they all came from. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep in that position and Scott didn’t do anything to stop him, rubbing his legs from time to time that didn’t do much but send him further into dreamland.

\--

He was supposed to be at the station in the afternoon, but since Stiles had slept until three he gathered he should take a shower and text his dad he was ready to go. He wasn’t of course, but the sheriff didn’t need to know that. Jumping into the shower, Stiles had the quickest wash of his life that his knows of, keeping his phone next to the tub in case his father rang. Towel drying his hair and trying to stay upright – the dizziness had hit an all-time high while he was letting the hot water rush over his face – he got a call from the station, answering and doing a roulette of the officers that would call him on his dad’s behalf. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Parrish.”

“Oh, hey Jordan.”

“ _Parrish_.” Jordan emphasised before telling him he was coming to get him, making Stiles curse and rush to his room in order to get changed and pack himself some lunch. The deputy had been an important asset to the station for years now, being the only one to know how to defuse a bomb, and being the only supernatural on the field of duty was one of the perks meaning they all had back up if things were to pick up again. Stiles considered him to be the big brother he never asked for but is grateful to have anyway.

A single toot outside the house signalled the deputies arrival, Stiles lifting his backpack full of food, his medication and his pillow in case he needed to lie down for a little while – no one would tell him off about it if he snoozed in his dad’s office or one of the free cells – and shoving his keys in to his pocket before he was out the door. Jordan waved before Stiles got into the cruiser, patting him on the shoulder before pulling away from the curb off to the station. The radio was on low so the deputy could hear any disturbances outside while driving, and Stiles had something to tune into so he wouldn’t go crazy from the silence. Jordan tapped on the steering wheel before speaking up. “So, sheriff says you’ve been worrying about losing memory?”

Stiles sat up straighter at that, starting to frown because he couldn’t remember saying that. Sure he’s been forgetting a little about where he was driving and he didn’t remember some basic facts he had known about for years. Or that his dad hadn’t put sugar in his coffee for several years now, they’re easy things to remember alright? Tensing his jaw, he let the officer continue, knowing there’d be more. “I had an old neighbour who was forgetting a lot too, but it was Alzheimer’s. She made sure to buy a notebook and write down all the important things so she’d never forget the things that mattered to her the most. She always had it on her with a couple pens in case she couldn’t remember something while she was out and about.”

“I’m not forgetting anything. It’s just, y’know, _fuzzy_.” He’d tried to stick to his denial, because that was much easier than the alternative thoughts. Parrish didn’t say anything, just shrugging and letting the teen wallow in his thoughts until they arrived at the station, getting out and locking it up. “I’ll think about it.”

“Sure you won’t forget thinking about it?” Jordan teased, only to be shoved into the doorframe and break out into giggles. “Assaulting an officer!”

“I’ll do more than that.” Stiles warned light-heartedly, throwing his bag in the corner of his dad’s office before going round the back to sort through the files. He’d been gone for a little over a week and already his hard work had been ruined; sure, some of the files hadn’t been touched from where he left them since they were either cold or closed cases, but the rest were strewn around the filing cabinet without a care. Without someone to put an order to it they’d have to dig through the files they wanted and that would start and endless cycle of disorganisation.

He got to work with taking out all the files that were no longer in their rightful place, setting them on the floor so he could go through them all again. Then he’d figure out if they were immediate cases or ones looking for trials and warrants, next he would sort them out into alphabetical order so everyone wouldn’t have to go through the file to figure out which manila folder was theirs. Lastly, he’d put them all back in neatly only to start again with the next filing cabinet.

He liked doing work like this, sorting things out, dealing with the psychical problems that he knew he could fix. It made it easier to cope with his own problems, knowing he couldn’t file them away in an alphabetical order. Maybe he should get a notebook, write down all his problems so he can figure them out in a more constructive way that could help him out in the long run. Yeah, he’ll do that. Making a mental note – which he will most likely forget – Stiles got back to work going through the many files and frowning at each folder he opened. An officer came by every half an hour to check up on him, ask if he wanted anything from the vending machine or a cup of coffee, but Stiles knew they were checking to see if he’d passed out in the corner somewhere or buried himself under the case files.

The next couple of hours were spent reading case files and putting them in their respective piles. By the time he was slotting them in the cabinet again he heard a knock on the door, his father’s voice rumbling tiredly. “You ready for a break, son?”

“Mm.” He wasn’t really in the mood to talk, his mind turning almost hyper focused on the task at hand, only pausing when he felt his dad’s hand on his shoulder. He was going to slap it away but forced himself to calm down, turning around with a small pout at being disrupted. John lifted his other hand, waving Stiles’ phone which quickly wiped the pout from the teen’s face and brought on a wince; shit, he was sure that he’d put it in his pocket.

“I’ll rephrase. You left your phone in my office, the hospital called and lucky I answered it for you, they want you to come in right away.” It was like a punch to the gut – a good kind of punch, but a punch nonetheless – and Stiles let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he’d kept in since they told him to wait for their call. They worked fast, it’d only been a day. He should bake the blood testers a cake or something for hurrying up, maybe give a cupcake to the doctor. Bringing his dad into a hug, he closed his eyes and took in the moment because this was it, they were probably going to dose him today and finally get the ball rolling. “Get your things, you can call everyone while I drive.”

The files could wait, Stiles rocketing out to his dad’s office dodging officers left and right. He could hear his father’s laughter behind him and it only egged him on to grab his bag and lug it over his shoulder, already heading out the station to where his dad always parked the cruiser. The sheriff was out the door a couple of minutes later and handing over Stiles’ phone when the teen made grabby hands since he forgot to take it _again_.

They pulled out the station while Stiles was tapping furiously at his phone, sending a group text to everyone that he was on the way to the hospital for possible chemo. It didn’t take long for Derek to call him after that, and wanted to make sure everything was alright since he hadn’t been with his boyfriend for the day. It was uplifting to hear Derek’s voice, starting to laugh when he heard the alpha’s car door slam and the engine kicking into gear and revving loudly in the speaker. John spoke up knowing Derek’s supernatural hearing could pick up from the call. “You better not be breaking any speeding laws.”

“No sir.” Was the wolf’s reply but he totally was, they all knew it. They pulled up to the hospital and made themselves known to the receptionist who told them to wait as usual. Stiles couldn’t wait though, pacing back and forth from where his father had sat down on one of the waiting room chairs. He could be getting chemo today, that’s all he was thinking about. He would have to think about his health, how to boost his immune system as much as he could because the drug would try to destroy it along with the tumor. He’d lose his hair but that was fine, he could wear a hat. He was already thin, but he’s only going to get worse.

Fuck, he’s going to look a state. Will Derek even want to be with him? Reeking of sickness, drugs and possibly death, while looking like a skeleton.

Shut up Stiles you know he’s going to stay with you. He loves you.

Taking a deep breath and turning his footing to pace the other way, he was enveloped in the thick arms of his boyfriend. The smell of coffee deep in his henley calmed him, resting his forehead against the alpha’s shoulder and letting out a sigh. They could do this together, they _will_ do this together. Derek would be with him every step of the way like he promised he would.

The doctor stepped out then, bringing him back to the office to have a chat about their findings. A small part of him thought they’d say he wasn’t a match for any of the chemo, that he had no chance in living. He brushed that thought away quickly because it could manifest, and sat down holding Derek’s hand. Instead of his fears, the doctor was very happy with the results and was going to put him on one of the most used chemo. “We’re going to be giving you an intravenous chemotherapy. It’s going to be inserted into a vein and have the medicine dripped through the bag.”

He didn’t fully understand but the doctor was confident he would be alright. Still, she talked to him about the risks, the precautions of going through with the chemo and what would happen to his body, along with his mental health. Stiles took most of it into account but he wasn’t going to change his mind, it was either this or wait to die. He could get Derek to give him the bite but he couldn’t tell the doctor that part.

After signing everything and giving himself a mental pep talk, he was then led to a room where a nurse brought in a couple bags of fluid on a hook, placing it next to the comfortable looking chair. He was scared sure, but Stiles still sat down and pulled his sleeve up, turning his head away from the scene and letting the nurse do what she had to do. First they had to check his blood once more to get the all clear before Stiles was ready for the main event. He nodded his head when the nurse asked if she could begin, before she twisted the blocker off and let the fluid start to drip down the tube and into his vein. The nurse spoke up then, her smile soft and warm as she checked to see if the drugs weren’t coming down too fast. “Think of this part as pre-medication. Gets you ready for the real stuff, it makes you a little loopy so don’t worry if you fall asleep.”

Huh, he didn’t think about that. Wincing a little at the coldness invading his hand, he turned to Derek who pulled up another chair and sat next to him, holding his other hand and bringing it up to his mouth, kissing each knuckle. At first he didn’t feel any different, the first ten minutes just made him want to fidget, expecting something far worse than what he was actually getting. Derek helped him get more comfortable, getting his pillow out and plumping it up before slotting it behind the teen’s side so Stiles could rest his head should he fall asleep.

The nurse was right; that pre-medication was like a low sedative. He started to blink lazily after half an hour, shaking his head trying to get through the fog that the drug was causing. Derek wasn’t helping at all, petting his hair and talking softly to his dad who was on the phone – on _his_ phone, probably talking to Scott then – and it was setting him to fail. He didn’t even hit an hour before he was out like a light.

\--

When Stiles woke up he was still stuck to an IV, much to his groggy displeasure. But now he was surrounded by his pack, they were playing the board games provided by the hospital and attempting to keep it down. The werewolves snapped their heads towards him at the uptick of his heart, signalling him being conscious, and abandoned their game to greet him with gentle hands on his legs. They didn’t dare touch his arms; one was obviously out of play and his free hand was being held by Derek who growled softly whenever someone reached out to take it.

“How do you feel?” It was honestly the stupidest thing Scott has said in a long time, and from the way Stiles was looking at him with an eyebrow raised he got the message. Only to yelp when Isaac thumped him on the arm much to Stiles’ enjoyment, it was like the beta read his mind.

Okay, so it didn’t feel that bad. He was mostly stiff from being in the same position for however long he was asleep. He read that he’d be projectile vomiting the moment the chemo went in, but he didn’t even have dizziness. After checking the time he gawked; he was out for _two hours_? How long were the sessions meant to _take_? Though it explained why his dad was gone, probably had to leave to continue with his shift at the station since there wasn’t anything fun going on with his son being asleep. Stiles toed his shoes off and wiggled his feet, stretching himself as much as he could without moving his arm, he might as well get comfortable. “Hook me up with that game; I’m beginning to get bored.”

They ended up playing three different kinds of games, beating most of them at monopoly before Melissa came in to check the IV bag and nodded her head to let everyone know it was empty and Stiles could be discharged soon after the doctor’s checked up on him. Thank fuck for that, he just wanted to get the needle out his damn hand and stand up so he could stretch properly. Thankfully the doctor came in, the wolves having cleaned up the explosion of board game pieces around the room. Removing the needle was like a blessing and with a band aid over the stab wound he was ready to go. He was going to argue about Derek helping him walk but right now all he wanted was to be close to his boyfriend and take another nap, Scott took care of his bag while the girls checked him out at the desk making it easier for him to just go outside and into Derek’s car.

It was nice that everyone came to show moral support at the hospital but coming home and finding the wolves and Malia sitting on the sofa, especially when he was going to lay there for the rest of the day in and out of sleep, ticked him off. Good thing he could move now, sitting on the empty side of the sofa and kicking them until they relented and finally moved onto the floor. Derek had disappeared for a moment but as Stiles tugged his pillow free from his bag and laid down on the sofa, he understood that the alpha had went upstairs to retrieve his duvet, draping it over the tired teen.

Lydia and Kira arrived moments later, meaning that Scott, Isaac and Malia had probably run from the hospital to his house. He really did have some friends. Lydia wouldn’t be swayed from the sofa, making him lift his head so she could sit down, and quickly setting the pillow on her lap so he could lie back down. Kira curled up with her boyfriend and Derek sat leaning against the couch so Stiles could run his needle bruised hand through the alpha’s hair. He made sure he wasn’t in the way of the screen though as Scott turned the TV on, turning to the discovery channel only to have Kira take the remote and start flipping for a program they were all interested in.

They ended up watching Mythbusters, watching as the scientists exploded a caravan straight off the ground with C4. He wonders if Deaton could do that with his secret herbal stuff, that man could make anything out of air if he so wanted. Oh fuck, he _did_ forget. Speaking softly while pausing mid-stroke through Derek’s hair, Stiles needed to tell someone just in case he forgot once more. “Derek…”

“Mm?” The alpha craned his head to side eye his boyfriend, still half interested in the show.

“I want to get a notebook, so I won’t forget. Promise to remind me.” Stiles’ brain was starting to slow down, the tiredness creeping into his body and making him lax. He doesn’t know if Derek responded to him but now that he told someone the teen felt relieved. Letting his hand fall from the werewolf’s hair, Stiles slipped into a dreamless sleep filled with exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you love this story, hate it, makes you bawl your heart out, please let me know! I love comments!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't have a weak stomach when it comes to vomit because there's a lot of that in this chapter!

The first couple of weeks being on chemo were completely different than he expected. The day after his first session he puked his guts up since the pre-medication had obviously ebbed away leaving him with the hit of nausea. He couldn’t get away from the toilet for hours, Derek next to him the whole time rubbing his back and letting out soothing rumbles under his breath. Stiles ended up sobbing in his boyfriend’s arms once he dry heaved hard enough for his stomach to finally realised there was nothing left, not even bile.

There was nothing he could do but take anti-nausea medication and fucking pray _no more_. He’ll get used to it eventually, he’s supposed to be having the treatment for a year and if he was waving the white flag after a _week_ then what was the point? Everyone tried to cheer him up with some movies they recently bought but he wasn’t into it, just wanting to rest and drink lots of water because his throat was so sore. They bought him a boat load of ginger cookies because apparently they helped with morning sickness so they’d work with his chemo nausea, _logic_. Still, he got cookies out of it, sucking on them until they were soft enough to swallow otherwise they’d scrape his sensitive throat.

He thought the side effects would happen after a few months and he’d wake up with a pillow covered in his hair just like in the movies. At least a month for something psychical to happen. Maybe. Two months tops. He’s not ready to lose his luscious locks just yet. _Please_.

So imagine his surprise from the third week on chemo, after just coming out of the shower and towel drying his hair while heading to the bedroom to get dressed. Derek was staring at him, and normally that would just lead to sex, but it was the _way_ he was looking. Oh god, he hadn’t grown a second head has he? Was his hair blue from a prank? Did he grow a beard in the matter of half an hour? “What?”

“Your, uh.” Derek lifted his arm, pointing to his armpit. Stiles copied and lifted one arm to look, there was a tuft of hair still damp from the shower as per usual. When the teen lifted his other arm he yelped in a rather unmanly way; it was _gone_! Smooth as a baby’s butt as his father would say. Oh how humiliating, the least chemo could do was do them both at the same time. Now he had to keep his arms down at all times.

Or… “Derek, grab a razor. I’m not walking around town with only one bald armpit.”

The alpha rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, following the teen back where he came and into the bathroom. The thing about true love was having them help shave your armpit hair while you lifted your arm and tried not to fidget. True love I tell you. After the final stroke of the razor and running his fingers over the skin to feel for anymore hair prickling his fingertips, Derek set the razor down and Stiles let his slightly numb arm flop down to his side with an exasperated sigh. “This is it, first it’s one armpit and then next it’ll be only one of my arms and legs, half of my head, one eyebrow. What’s next, Derek?”

“Your pubic hair?” Stiles could see the wolf was trying not to be amused at the situation. It was easy for him to say, he didn’t have to worry about his hair falling out in the next coming of weeks. Especially when the weather was getting cold and he didn’t have any natural fuzz to keep the cold at bay. He should get everyone to shave their eyebrows just for him, except Lydia because she would kill everyone and then draw them on like the wizard she is when it came to make up.

They returned to the bedroom so Stiles could get dressed now that he was air dried from standing with his arm up for so long. Tugging the hoodie over his head, he saw Derek reach for something in his leather jacket. A notebook. It had a pen hooked onto it and a plastic chain clipped onto the plastic spine, the other clip open – probably to have it attach to his belt hoop or something so he wouldn’t drop it or lose and forget about it – it was a simple black, but Derek has taped a single line across the front and written Stiles’ name on it along with the words ‘the don’t forget booklet’. “Derek –.”

“You said to me you didn’t want to forget important things in your life, just in case. So, here. I’ve even filled in the first page for you.” The alpha was acting sheepish, mind the pun, when Stiles took the notebook and opened it up. There was an old picture inside of the pack; Erica, Boyd and Isaac huddled together as the three musketeers werewolf edition, Stiles and Scott in the middle with their arms around each other’s necks, Kira a little off to the right from the true alpha with her heart eyes targeted to him. Derek was in the back not looking at the camera, his eyebrows turning down in a glare and Stiles knows is fake, because of the upturn on his lips enough to be true. Lydia was next to Kira with her hands on both of her hips, an invisible aura around her that spoke of pure confidence. Finally his father, Melissa and Jordan hip to hip on the other side of the picture all in their uniforms, the parents smiling proudly to themselves at the small family they’ve got. There was a couple of pictures glued next to Kira; Allison’s laughing face that brought tears to Stiles’ eyes, and Malia’s confused face starting straight at the camera, Stiles knew that was when she had only just started to get used to technology. This was amazing. In the margin were arrows pointing at each person and stating their name and what they were to Stiles, all written in Derek’s handwriting.

They made sure to take the picture off flash so that the supernatural creatures wouldn’t ruin the shot. He remembered that with a tight laugh, wiping his eyes as he sat down on the bed next to the wolf. He thought about writing what kind of special people they were but then fought against it, just in case his notebook got into the hands of hunters. “You’ve thought about this a lot I see. I love it.”

Leaning his shoulder to Derek’s they both admired the photo together. Their pack was smaller now but it was still a family, they still had the same goal and if anything the parting of their friend’s only brought them closer. They’ve come a long way but nothing was going to change between them all, even when everyone split off to go to their own universities and they wouldn’t get to see each other very much. They’d figure it out. Stiles had to tell Berkeley about his tumor, saying he needed to stay in town for treatment and they were as understanding as they could be, stating he could do what he can online and email the teachers if he was confused about a project. The classes were all recorded anyway for people who wanted to review about it for the hour, so Stiles only had to watch, write, and hand in assignments before the due date.

It was a positive thing, Stiles tries to tell himself while his friends are all getting ready to leave to their own respective journey. He could spend more time with his father and Derek, and Isaac wasn’t going to university since he didn’t even finish high school so he wasn’t going to be completely alone.  He could skype everyone once a week or something, make it a group thing for everyone to be involved with. So what if he couldn’t experience what it’s like on a campus like he’s always wanted to since he was younger, or sleep in a dorm with Scott which he understood wouldn’t have been a thing anyway since the werewolf was going to a different university entirely. Still, he dreamed.

He could go there later once the tumor was gone, but things would be rocky. But really, when has anything been smooth for him? Sure there’d be rumors about him and people would bully him about the lack of hair – he researched it would take months for his hair to return which made Stiles both laugh and cry at since it’ll only take a month for everything to fall out – or he’d take ages to make friends because everyone would be in their own groups. Fuck it, if he could befriend and eventually fall in love and _date_ the most unemotional werewolf to ever exist then he could get through university and make a couple of friends.

\--

Going into the hospital was a battle for him now; knowing that when he goes in that he’ll be put in a separate room where he’ll get injected with needles for hours, pumped until he passes out for a few hours then wake up groggy and just wait until the pre-medications wear off so he can puke his guts up. His body knew what was going to happen to him and it wasn’t ready for another dose. Most of the side effects were like clockwork to him now with the nausea, the tiredness, the achy soreness in his feet that he figured out was the chemo trying to escape through his pores – joyous moment that was, he thought his feet were going to fall off – but it all happened within the week and soon enough it was time for another session starting it all over again.

He would have to handle it, entering the hospital wearing his softest pair of socks and sandals with a new fluffy dressing gown thanks to Isaac. He honestly couldn’t give a flying fuck about what he looked like nowadays, so what if he had bags under his eyes, he was on chemo and soon wouldn’t have any fucking hair, he could look tired if he damn well wanted to. He would walk around town – more like shuffle around thanks to his feet hating him – with comfortable clothes and his hair askew with a look that screamed ‘I just rolled out of bed and I dare you to tell me about it’. 

Stiles always brought his pillow with him to sessions so he could fall asleep comfortably for a couple hours as the pre-meds worked their way through his system. Derek was with him always when he was having sessions, holding his hand and distracting him when the nurse was puncturing his veins with needles. The pack seem to have figured out when they should come in because there was always a couple of them hanging around playing board games when he woke up. His scent must have offended their noses by now with the smell of chemical, sickness and often misery, but no perfume or deodorant would be able to fix it so Stiles had made it a silent rule to apologize whenever one of their noses turned up when they walked into the same room as him even when Derek told him not to.

Waking up from the medically induced nap, Stiles blinked his blurry eyes and found Derek staring at his phone with eyebrows drawn in. Ah, the sour concentration face. Before the alpha could look up Stiles had taken the phone away to see what had his boyfriend so focused; he probably shouldn’t take people’s things but he didn’t seem to care about that part in his mind that felt guilty about stealing. “What you looking at?”

“Give it back, Stiles.” Derek didn’t want to jostle the teen while he was hooked up, but his antsy look as he held out his hand was enough for Stiles to continue his search. Tapping the screen, he saw a paragraph and bullet points like a sort of to-do list. Frowning, he scrolled back up to the top and swallowed thickly when he read the title of the page.

 _‘How to care for someone who has cancer_.’ Strangers were discussing it on the forum like it was a simple sickness and while some of them were trying to add humor to the obvious devastation probably so they could get through it, Stiles felt like it rubbed him the wrong way. Derek was searching up how to take care of him, like he was an infant, or someone who couldn’t take care of themselves. “Derek what the fuck.”

The wolf’s expression was a cross between attentive and guilt. Good, he fucking should be. The pack seemed to understand that this was something they shouldn’t be a part of, slowly inching out the room to let the couple deal with the problem. Stiles didn’t care right now, eyes focused on his boyfriend who appeared to be thinking up anything to say that would help the situation. “I’m sorry if I offended you, I just need to be in the know.”

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, Derek?” Exiting out of the forum, Stiles tossed the phone back in hopes that the alpha would fumble for it, only getting more annoyed when the wolf caught it with perfect precision and slipped it into his pocket for safe keeping. How dare he think that Stiles couldn’t take care of himself; sure he was sick, of course he was going to be weak and need a little support sometimes when it came to certain things. But it didn’t mean he was out for the count just yet and he will be fighting this notion until his death bed. “Treat me the same, I’m not a piece of china Derek. I’m not going to break.”

At that, Derek seems to bite down on his tongue to cut off a whine that was creeping to escape. He nods his head and doesn’t speak up, letting Stiles bubble in his thoughts and emotions which led to the teen rethinking over and over again that he caught his boyfriend taking advice on how to take care of him. Ugh, he was so angry and the wolf could probably smell it radiating off him too. Good, let him get worried. “I can’t look at you right now and since I can’t move, you need to leave.”

“Stiles –.”

“ _Go_.” Pointing at the door with his free hand, Stiles practically glared at the wall opposite of the alpha until he finally heard Derek sigh in defeat. The chair squeaked against the floor as Derek stood up and Stiles was proud of himself for not looking up or leaning into the soft kiss on top of his head before the wolf left without another word. Without question he knew he’d need to grovel unnaturally for the teen to forgive him once more. Stiles was left alone in the room for another couple of minutes before Scott poked his head in the room asking if it was safe for them to come in yet but the teen didn’t care much about that right now.

Some of the pack entered and sat around playing games and eating once more while Stiles just curled up more on his chair with his arm stuck out with the tube in, trying to fade out from the world. It was gradual but the rustling of the board games and soft murmuring in the room was finally enough for him to close his eyes and drift off to a light dreamless sleep.

It didn’t last long but it meant Stiles didn’t have to talk to anyone, waking up when the nurse took the needle out his hand with a sympathetic smile. Lydia was the one that took him home, Scott asked but it wasn’t like he could drive him on his bike in his condition right now. She flicked the radio on and turned the volume down while she helped him pull the chair back so he could relax in the plush seat. Neither of them spoke, didn’t need to, Lydia was always the best at knowing what he wanted and right now he just needed to rest more and pray that the pre-meds would stay in his system long enough for him to get a full night’s sleep.

John was home when they arrived, enveloping him in a hug and taking his bag from Lydia with a smile. His father knew what to do now after a few sessions; his covers were on the sofa, a bowl of snacks and a stack of movies to watch with the pack because they all knew they’d have another pack night. It had turned from a ‘make Stiles feel better’ night to a pack night, giving them all some routine to relax for the evening along with silent support for Stiles after chemo. Not that he was awake for most of it, but it was the thought that counts.

Derek didn’t turn up but after being told to leave his boyfriend alone, it didn’t faze Stiles. It must have been killing him though; the strong pull to protect his partner in his time of need must have been overwhelming. A small part of him liked that he was being obeyed for once by the alpha, that he wasn’t being ignored and that Derek’s ideals were more important. Most of him just yearned to have his grumpy wolf to snuggle up to, to soak in his warmth and stroke his fingers through the soft chest fuzz. If the pack senses his misery they didn’t mention anything thankfully.

\--

Stiles completely regretted telling Derek to leave once he woke up the next day, hurtling off the sofa and to the nearest bowl – which just so happened to be the sink – to vomit all the snacks he ate from last night. He heard his father upstairs getting up and slowly coming downstairs but right now he was focusing on keeping himself upright as the world spun around. He felt John’s hands on his shoulders, rubbing rhythmically in attempt to sooth his son. “Oh Stiles…”

“C-Call Derek.” Stiles spat out before another round of heaving brought up – oh god what _is_ that? – something chunky and orange. Probably a combined mix of Reese’s peanut butter cups all mushed together. Gross.

His father slid a stool over for him to sit on before he went to the phone, Stiles nodding his thanks because his legs were beginning to get too shaky and they really wouldn’t have had a good day if someone had to clean up vomit from the kitchen floor. He heard John murmuring over the phone but most of it was washed over by his groans and the splashing of liquid and wet mutilated food hitting the sink bowl. He just wanted this day to be over and it just started, Stiles knew this was the day he will dread for the year along with the actual injections because they were shit too. His dad was back to rubbing his back and mumbling tiredly at his son, both of them hadn’t drank any coffee yet and were relying on their bodies to know what they were doing.

Derek had driven over there in record time, coming in and automatically heading for the kitchen probably hearing Stiles vomit from outside, or the smell was wafting throughout the living room. He took over from the sheriff who was glad to step back and go back upstairs to get dressed for work, leaving the wolf to comfort his boyfriend. Derek rumbled soothingly, the heat of his back enough to warm up Stiles’ shivering frame. He seemed to know everything; grabbing a couple tissues within his reach and wetting them with the tap to dab across the teen’s sweaty brow, brushing Stiles’ fringe from his eyes and stroking circles into his upper arms.

He was honestly the best boyfriend he could ever have and Stiles suddenly felt guilty about making him walk out at a time when the alpha was probably on high alert to take care of him. God, he felt like an idiot. Stiles wanted to say how sorry he was but all that came out was a sob and a hitch in breath before he was unloading another round of vomit. Derek seemed to understand what he was trying to get across though, kissing his temple and wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist. “I’m sorry too.”

Resting his head back against Derek’s chest, they stayed there in peace until Stiles’ stomach started burbling to life once more. Even when he was a mess of tears, vomit and snot Derek kept stroking his hair and rubbing his back, murmuring with a voice so soft Stiles could barely hear it. “I know you’re strong, Stiles. You’re smart. You can do so many things that save the day. But you’ve got to let someone take care of you, show you it’s alright to need help.”

“I’m not fragile, Derek. Not yet.” Stiles spat out some bile in his mouth, grimacing at the taste. He knows what chemo does to a person, he feels it every day. Knows it’s going to get worse; while the chemo is killing off the infected cells and shrinking the tumor, it’s also killing off perfectly healthy cells and leaving Stiles to either slowly die from the therapy or to stay alive but shrivel to skin and bone. Stiles also knows he should stay positive about it but he hates watching people around him all day with the same worrisome gleam in their eyes, waiting for him to make a mistake so they can fix it. With their werewolf senses they could smell how sick he was, if he was getting better or worse – he hopes it’s the former – and maybe that’s why they were being so heavily involved in his daily life. He still wasn’t happy about it. “Let me have some freedom while I still can.”

He heard the alpha sigh behind him and some rustling of cloth, Stiles turning his head to watch Derek’s shirt slip over his head. What he also pinned immediately was the lack of bush under his arms. Narrowing his eyes and trying to keep a grin off his face, Stiles let his boyfriend explain with a tint of red flushing on the tips of his ears. “Now we both have hairless armpits.”

Throwing his head back, Stiles barked out a laugh. Not only did he love it he wanted to take a picture and put it in his notebook to remember forever. The moment when Derek Hale shaved for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for waiting! I hope you like this chapter, tell me all about it in the comment section!

The next few weeks that passed were filled with everyone getting ready and going off to their colleges. They took as many pictures as they could before they left, and Stiles knew it was a silent message for him – just in case he takes a turn for the worst before they all come back – but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he neatly placed each picture into his notebook with a detailed explanation of what they were doing at the time, who was in the photo and how long he’d been on chemo.

Even Malia was leaving; her father had found a great night school that took care of all the things she forgot about. It wasn’t like she could explain to him that she was a werecoyote and needed to stay with her pack, so after a sulk for a few days she relented. She was the first to depart, giving everyone a hug and a quick scent mark for Stiles before her father drove her off. Next was Kira and Scott who’s colleges weren’t that far away from each other so they decided to go together sickeningly enough.

Scott was in tears refusing to leave the Stilinski household for the few days leading up to him leaving. He spent every moment with Stiles until finally he couldn’t hold it off anymore, Stiles giving him a couple pieces of his clothes to keep his scent for the few weeks so the werewolf wouldn’t come running back for the first few weeks. Stiles made sure to promise Scott multiple times that he would skype him twice a week. Kira had given a massive hug too that made his bones creak when she squeezed him a little too hard, and apologized continuously until Scott bundled her into the car and drove off. Even then she texted him that she was sorry.

Lydia was the last to go and while she played it cool that they always left the best for last, Stiles could see that she had tears in her eyes. She kissed his cheek and left him to deal with the ache of being without one of his friends that he could actually be a complete nerd around. It’s not like he could pick up the phone and go over his homework with her so they could complain about the ridiculousness of how the teacher had written an equation that didn’t fit the answer properly, or laugh about history quotes that the other members of the pack would stare at them blankly until they had to explain. It just wouldn’t be the same.

He’s glad Derek gave the notebook to him; keeping the book on his person at all times when he went out and it was always close by when he was round the house. It came in handy because only a week after Lydia had left for her university, Stiles’ brain started deteriorating.

His memory had spiraled downwards even when he was supposed to be getting better. For an hour he forgot where the station was and when he went to call his father he burst into tears because he couldn’t remember what _that_ was either. He forgets where he puts his things after he sets them down and walks out the room, forgets to lock the door when he leaves the house, forgets he’s not allowed to drive and gets frustrated when he can’t find his fucking keys. Derek’s been so consistently gentle with him, guiding him through all his panic attacks and soothing him when he gets so angry and just lashes out, sometimes harsh enough to punch at Derek’s chest. Stiles always felt guilty afterwards for lashing out at his boyfriend, kissing at the places he struck.

They went to the hospital after Stiles had a moment of asking his dad why he hadn’t seen anyone come by for a couple weeks and his father just looks at him with his pitying expression that sends Stiles into a quick burst of anger. How could he forget something so important to his friend’s lives?

They did another MRI on him, along with a bunch of blood tests that led to Stiles tearing up and curling into Derek’s chest. They couldn’t find anything that would have made Sties forget so quickly, but it showed that the tumor had shrunk – minimally but it was still significant for everyone involved – which showed that the type chemo he was using was working. The doctor gave him a list of exercises that could help his cognitive function then let him leave with a quick ‘I’ll see you in a couple of days for your next session'. When they came home Stiles just went upstairs and curled up in the bed, pulling the covers over his head and ignoring everyone for the rest of the day.

Derek didn’t know what to do when Stiles got into one of those moods, so he just left the teen to his own devices and keeping an ear open for Stiles in case he was needed. Instead, he sat with John at the kitchen table and accepted the glass of whiskey that he offered even though they both knew he wouldn’t be affected by the alcohol. The sheriff let out a deep sigh as he finished his first small shot, pouring himself another. “I remember this moment; when Stiles’ mother was doing so well we thought she would get through this, then all of a sudden she took a bad spell and had to stay in the hospital for the remainder…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence but Derek knew what he meant. Stiles having a tumor probably wasn’t bringing up the best memories for John especially since he was the one that went through it alone. Stiles was too young to fully remember what was going on at the time, and if he knew then he didn’t understand it as much as John would have. Derek knew about the aftermath from Stiles, how John pretty much stopped living along with his wife, he took to the bottle so quickly and it got so bad he nearly lost his job at the station if he didn’t clean up. Stiles had to do everything for him including a small intervention that he was still here, that he needed his father back because he was just a kid.

After that, John had poured all the alcohol in the house into the sink and didn’t drink a drop for years until he felt he could fully handle it. Nowadays he only had a couple of glasses for when he gets stressed out, or at times like these when he felt his son was fading away like his dead wife. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s not going to end up like it did before.” Derek watched the sheriff falter and so he took the bottle away once he filled the glass. Sometimes he had to give tough love and right now with John’s mindset leading him to the darkest pits of his mind, the alpha knew now was the time. He shouldn’t be drinking his sadness away; he should be planning how to take care of his son or fighting to think positively. He was practically a father-in-law to Derek, telling John as much. He saw the man’s face light up a little with both surprise and adoration, he probably didn’t think Derek thought about him like that which just made the alpha want to show him how much he cared even more. “I’m here for you just as much as I’m here for Stiles.”

“I appreciate that, son. You know I’m grateful for you being here for Stiles.” John blinked lazily as he spoke and Derek could smell the alcohol on his tongue but let the man drink the last glass before taking it and the bottle of whiskey away. They moved to the sofa, John turning on the TV and flicking it to some sports so they could relax without having to fill the room with their voices. Derek’s gotten used to being here now; he remembers he used to come over and remained silent for the whole night until Stiles felt so uncomfortable attempting to get him to talk that he just made it clear Derek should leave. Honestly, he’s so glad he got past that stage of silence and he’s sure the pack’s definitely thankful that he kicked himself in the ass and got over himself.

He excused himself a couple of hours later after hearing Stiles wake up, his heartbeat picking up from his bedroom. Heading to his boyfriend’s room Derek shut the curtains since it was dark anyway and kicked off his shoes, getting into bed and curling up around Stiles. The teen was playing with his phone idly but visibly relaxed once Derek pressed his chest up to Stiles’ back, the heat radiating through their shirts. Peeking over his shoulder Derek watched Stiles play angry birds for the last half an hour and kissed the teen’s shoulder and neck whenever he lost. “You’re putting me off.”

“I think I’m actually doing the opposite.” He could smell Stiles’ arousal thrumming to life with every kiss along his skin but didn’t feel the need to do anything if the teen didn’t feel like it. Stiles threw his arm back to whack Derek somewhere, letting out a huff before shimmying himself around until they were facing each other. Forgetting the game on his phone for now, they exchanged kisses that left both of them with heartfelt beams on their faces and their lungs with a need for air.

Stiles reached up and ran his fingers along the alpha’s face, mapping each line from the bridge of his nose to his jawline then along his cheekbones and up to his thick eyebrows. He could tell Derek was keeping still for him, eyes full of adoration and trust that had been built over the months they’ve been together. He thought in that moment, he may forget everything in his life – he may even forget who he was as a person – but right then and there Stiles found it impossible to forget about Derek. “I’ll never forget you.”

Derek’s eyebrows raised a little as he took in his boyfriend’s face, the emotions wafting off him and the complicated set on his face. He knew it was hard for everyone but most of all for Stiles, who was fighting for his life in all the ways possible. It wasn’t like he could make things go away, he couldn’t take Stiles’ fear about the unknown and while he tried to protect the teen from all the harm around him, there wasn’t anything he could do besides the bite which Stiles had denied. He knew Stiles just wanted support and that’s exactly what Derek will be. “I know.”

\--

Every day, Stiles goes through the exercises that the doctor gave him. He makes it a part of his daily routine; gets up, takes his medication and while he’s making breakfast he remembers five things about his father. When going to the station he automatically names each deputy he sees before going into the filing department to get on with his clean up and when Derek picks him up to bring him back home, Stiles names five supernatural beings that have been in Beacon Hills.

It might not seem like much but the cognitive therapy is meant to help him, like glue to a broken vase. It won’t be perfect but it’ll be enough for him to remember the big pictures so there’s no chunks missing. He’s got to keep a positive thought process about this or everything will just go out the window, if there’s a chance – and there’s a pretty big chance chemo will kill him if the tumor doesn’t first – he won’t make it through this then he’s going to live his life making the people around him happy. He makes sure to treat himself with Reese’s peanut butter cups whenever he gets all five things right and since he gets it right nearly every time, he’s been eating a lot of treats lately. Good thing the chemo is making him lose weight or he’d be the size of a house right about now.

Speaking of his weight loss, it’s amazing how fast he’s becoming skin and bone even with the amount that he consumes. Stiles knew he was lanky before getting sick but now it’s actually struck him that he can’t put anything on, he could eat an entire fridge worth of food and nothing would happen to him. He’s dropped two pant sizes _and_ has to wear a belt outside or his jeans could slip down. Stiles has seen the way people look at him when he’s out and about; the sympathy on their faces whenever he’s too weak to hold the shopping basket round the store and has to get Derek to hold it for him. It’s humiliating for him and Stiles will admit he takes it out on Derek, he won’t ask for help until he’s noticed for kicking something along the floor.

He’s thinking about buying clothes from the kid’s section next time he goes shopping it’s getting that bad.

But Stiles takes it in his stride, makes it a thing to wear Derek’s shirts around the house because he knows what it does to the werewolf. In the mornings he comes down in just his underwear and a long shirt Derek wore yesterday, grinning when just a moment later he’ll feel the alpha sneaking his arms around his waist and pull him in closer. “What’re you playing at?”

“Just making some breakfast.” Stiles remained innocent but they both knew he was doing this to simultaneously turn on and frustrate the alpha. They couldn’t do anything this late in the morning knowing that Stiles’ dad would come downstairs soon and he was still adamant about no sexual situations under his roof. Not that they’ve kept to that, but still. Stiles only grinned more when the rumbling in Derek’s chest vibrated into his spine, the teen pressing his ass back into Derek’s hips. They hadn’t done anything for a couple days now; Stiles didn’t feel in the mood especially after he went back to the hospital for another session and vomited the next day. But now it was easy for him to feel that tug below the surface, that need to feel Derek against him, _inside_ him. He had no shame right now, talking softly in case his father came down the stairs and heard him. “You want some or do you want to go upstairs for a little while?”

“Don’t make me choose.” Derek buried his face into Stiles’ neck, kissing and sucking the skin there until a bruise formed. He shouldn’t be making hickeys on Stiles after he found out what his blood cells were fighting against inside his body and how easy it was for the teen to be bruised because of the chemo. But right now that went out the window along with the silence, Stiles setting down the spatula and whining softly as he ground his ass back onto Derek’s clothed cock. All he wanted right now was the claim his boyfriend once more, to fill him up and watch him squirm, to give him what he needs.

Grabbing Stiles’ hips, they moved away from the stove onto the counter opposite Derek lifting the teen up and slotting himself between them to press himself back up against Stiles once more. They exchanged kisses, Stiles’ legs hooking around his alpha’s hips and bringing him closer so they could grind more. Being with Derek like this – moaning into his mouth and feeling him thrust his hips like he craved more, that they both knew what was going to happen next – was something that Stiles always yearned for even when they weren’t together. He could hear himself groaning Derek’s name, feel his dick getting slick in his underwear and just wants to take them _off_ , wants the alpha inside him already. “I’m going to go back upstairs and grab my slippers and when I get back I better not see you two like that.”

It was like splashing freezing water on the two of them, breaking apart with faces red with embarrassment as John stood at the doorframe of the kitchen. They couldn’t say anything, did have to since the sheriff turned around and went back upstairs leaving Stiles to break out into uncomfortable giggles while Derek lifted him down from the counter and onto the floor once more. Pecking his lips Derek sat at the table and let Stiles carry on with making breakfast, thankfully he hadn’t put anything on the stove yet or they’d have burnt it already.

John came back down with his slippers on, nodding in approval at how far away his son and boyfriend was from each other. Stiles always found it funny that his dad would wear slippers with his uniform on before going out, maybe he just didn’t want his feet getting cold in the frosty mornings. Sitting down next to Derek they ate in silence because Stiles still couldn’t believe that he was caught practically humping Derek in the kitchen. It’s not like they were going to say anything about what just happened just a few minutes ago and Stiles was perfectly fine with that notion, hugging his dad goodbye and watching him switch from slippers to shoes before he left for the day.

They both continued to eat their breakfast in peace with Stiles listing off five things about his dad for his routinely cognitive assistance, his foot running up and down Derek’s leg. The rumbling from the alpha’s chest brought goosebumps to rise in Stiles’ skin and couldn’t hold in the small groan because _fuck_ , he loved the way Derek went wild at just a simple touch. They didn’t get to finish breakfast after that, Derek lifting Stiles and carrying him upstairs and dropping him on the bed so he could yank his shirt off and throw it behind him to land somewhere on the floor.

Stiles wasn’t far behind, lifting his hips to tug his underwear down a little sticky from his precum. He could see Derek’s nose flaring at the fresh scent of his arousal and whined because he seriously wants to be fucked right now in all the positions. They didn’t bother with Stiles’ shirt; Derek loved to see him in it and wanted to have the mixed scent of him meshed with his shirt, but the alpha’s trousers were gone in seconds along with his own underwear. Falling down and leaning over Stiles, Derek captured the teen’s lips once more with urgency, his fangs itching to drop and claim. Instead, he licked into Stiles’ mouth and growled as the scent ticked up into the sweet honey of pleasure.

They should have been a little slower and have Derek be a slightly less grabby due to his potentionally fragile body but right now to hell with it, Stiles needed a quickie and Derek was going to give it to him. They shifted up the bed until Stiles’ head met the pillows, the alpha’s hand diving into the bedside drawer to pull out the lube and quickly make work of slicking up his fingers to rub along Stiles’ hole, feeling it clench and relax under them. “Oh fuck, Derek _please_.”

He needed to stop teasing him, Stiles nuzzling into Derek’s neck and making those quiet but desperate noises that he knew drove Derek wild. Soon enough the alpha thrust a finger in with his eyes flashing, the rumbling in the back of his throat uncontrollable because he couldn’t deny how much Stiles makes him go crazy sometimes. He wasn’t going to suck anymore hickeys onto the teen though, lifting his head and watching Stiles’ facial expressions when he slipped another finger inside and scissoring them out. He watched as Stiles’ eyes dazed over in pleasure and how he opened his mouth into an ‘o’ but no noise came out, his hips bucking up and down onto his hand trying to get the fingers deeper inside ad find his sweet spot.

It didn’t take much to find after all, they’ve been fucking for months and Derek has had countless hours getting to know every inch of Stiles’ ass. All it took was a couple of fingers inside and crook them a little to the left and bingo, Stiles would be in heaven. But that wasn’t the best part about the teen’s ass because it wasn’t just about finding his prostate, Stiles just loved to be stretched out underneath Derek taking everything he could give and love every moment. They tried fisting before but could only get four fingers and the tips of Derek’s thumb before the teen tapped out, they both knew Stiles loved to feel stretched. Sitting between Stiles’ legs the alpha pushed the third finger in and listened to those moans become more breathy and high pitched, hear Stiles beg for him. “Please baby I need it, I want you so badly just hurry, put it in please please _please_.”

That’s the state Derek loved his boyfriend to be in; craving him with every last breath but trusting him enough that he knows he’s going to get what he wants eventually. Pulling his fingers out and slicking his cock up, Derek pushed himself inside and took a moment to fully feel Stiles around him, clenching and squeezing his dick with his inner walls. It didn’t take long until Stiles was rocking himself up on Derek with his arms reaching out to bring his alpha in closer, Derek leaning down to hoist his small frame up to bring him onto his thighs. “Hold onto me.”

Didn’t need much for Stiles to obey, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck and hooking his ankles together behind the werewolf’s back like some kind of overly-sexual leech. With Derek’s hands placed under the teen’s slim thighs, it was easy for him to lift him up and down onto his cock. Stiles couldn’t help himself from crying out each time Derek’s cock hilted all the way inside him, too far gone to be embarrassed that his voice was becoming more of a hoarse bark than a moan.

Leaning in the two of them groaned into their kiss, their tongues delving into each other’s mouth and swallowing each other’s saliva. After a while, they got themselves into a rhythm of Stiles bouncing down while Derek thrust his hips up and the teen could feel himself getting close already. Damn himself for not having an orgasm earlier or he would have been riding his man for a longer time to really rock his world. Instead, Stiles whimpered into Derek’s mouth something that didn’t even sound human, his legs starting to trembling as his dick leaked and spurting cum on the alpha’s tensing stomach.

It took all the air out of his lungs but Stiles continued to rock his hips, wanting Derek to feel him squeeze around his cock while he rode out his climax. He had to pull away from the kiss to breathe, watching Derek’s eyes glazed over with a hint of red to show he was struggling with his control – which honestly wasn’t surprising since Stiles was sitting on his dick and milking it for what it’s worth – he just had to see him go crazy. Stiles started rolling his hips more trying to get Derek as deep as he could while goading him, urging him on to do fuck knows what to him. “Come on alpha, give it to me.”

He’s not sure what he was asking for but Derek seemed to know, bringing the teen back down on the mattress so he could go full out. The alpha lifted Stiles’ legs up onto his shoulders, took hold of Stiles’ hips and went to town. They probably shouldn’t have been going so hard on Stiles’ hips but the teen wasn’t complaining one bit, though he _did_ have to grab hold of the sheets in case he slid up and down the bed from how harsh they were doing it. They both needed this as a sort of stress relief after so long of not fucking it out of their system, as well as the emotions they’ve been dealing with for the past week. Derek’s thrusts were becoming jerky and Stiles whined for him, his voice croaky for being so loud. “Fill me up, I want it.”

“ _Stiles_ –.”

“Yeah, baby. Breed me up.” It was always easy to get the werewolf to cum after knowing that he had a breeding kink; he caught Derek whispering while they were fucking one time about how he wanted to knot Stiles up, fill him with puppies and they laughed about it when they finished but Stiles had used that tactic to get Derek to cum ever since. The alpha never complained. Stiles let out a puff of air when Derek let his legs fall from his shoulders and onto the bed, falling on top of him to grind deep with each thrust until he spilled inside with a final buck of his hips.

They laid there for a while soaking in their afterglows until Derek realized he was laying of top of Stiles, pulling out of him and rolling off to the side with a mumbled apology. Stiles didn’t care that he was being squished or that cum was now leaking out of his ass, he snuggled up to the alpha’s side and closed his eyes already feeling himself getting tired from their sexual work out. Stiles heard the soft murmur of Derek trying to remind him about getting up for his work but he was far too gone to care about that right now. The police station could wait for a couple of hours because they were going to have post-coital sleep and they were going to like it.

\--

The next couple of weeks were one of the most difficult moments of Stiles’ life so far. He’d just learnt to accept himself and his bald armpits, he celebrated not having to shave his face too. Stiles was interested when his leg and arm hair seemed to have vanished overnight though he knows it was probably a more lengthy process but Derek brought up the fact that his thigh was soft one day. Even his crotch was slowly becoming hairless and while he already grooms down there for easier access, it was sort of a turn on for him to be so smooth.

Derek seemed to have a kink for Stiles being hairless, whenever they sat together long enough the werewolf would run his hand back and forth on Stiles’ leg until the teen was so riled up he’d beg for a fuck. Or when Stiles was already in a sexual mood he’d wear shorts and a sleeveless shirt to show off how hairless he was, which didn’t take long for Derek to notice and want a piece of him. So yes, it was a thing for Derek meaning Stiles had wrote it down in his notebook to clean shave more often once his hair does _eventually_ grow back.

He had a moment of sadness for his eyebrows since they were the next to go along with his eye lashes. Whenever he looked in the mirror he was so freaked out by how different two strips of hair were on his face, he thought about asking Lydia to give him tips on how to draw them on but hadn’t gotten a reply on that just yet. For now he’d found a way of cutting up duct tape into fashionable strips to use, but it only made his father laugh out loud when he first saw and Derek didn’t even want to look at him, his smirk constantly on his face. At least it made everyone cheerful.

Stiles was expecting it to be next, more leaning towards _dreading_ it happening to him. When he was just hitting his third month on chemo, waking up after having a small sleep over with Isaac and Derek; they’d hooked his laptop up to skype with everyone to have their weekly pack snuggles and catch up on the latest gossip – it was also a time for his friends to see Stiles because they wanted to be in the loop about his changes both physical and emotional – like they usually do. It was like tradition for them now. Stiles woke and stretched out on the sofa trying not to move too much because the beta’s head was using his thigh as a pillow, when he finally saw it.

A chunk of hair just happily sitting on his pillow. Stiles stared at it for a moment trying to recollect his thoughts before finally moving to sit up on the sofa with his eyes tearing up because this was actually happening, he was going bald. He doesn’t know if Derek was already awake or if he felt Stiles’ distress telepathically that it woke him up but the alpha was with him in a moment, parking next to him and holding him close, asking what was wrong. Stiles couldn’t really say anything right now with the lump in his throat that would most likely burst into tears if he spoke, so he just ran his fingers through his hair, some locks coming free and leaving a wad in his hands which only turned out to upset him more. “Oh, Stiles…”

Turning his body towards Derek, Stiles hid his face into the crook of the werewolf’s neck and let the floodgates open. He doesn’t know how long he cried but his face hurt, his eyes stung and Derek’s shoulder was getting damp from the amount of tears. Stiles didn’t know it was going to affect him this much, he used to give himself a buzz cut for years. Maybe it was because that was his choice and this time around it wasn’t just going to be shaved, he was going to have a shiny bald head. He was going to have to wear a hat everywhere or wear sun cream so it doesn’t burn his scalp. People are going to look at him with even more sympathy, most of the town knew he was sick because gossip spread like wild fire in such a small area and the sheriff was obviously so well known. It was natural that the news of the sheriff’s son’s illness would be everybody’s business.

Isaac placed a cup of water in front of Stiles on the coffee table, sitting on the other side of the couple and remained silent until Stiles had stopped the waterworks. He pulled away from Derek with a watery sniff, accepting the tissues Isaac provided too so he could low his nose. He didn’t need to explain anything to them, his emotions wafting in the area for the werewolves to smell and understand that he was obviously in distress, along with the hair in his palm it was an easy question to answer.

Stiles wasn’t going to wait for it to all fall out on his pillow every day, knowing it would upset him every time he would see it. Wiping his eyes with another tissue, Stiles sniffed heavily and stood up with his sorrow draining out of his face and being replaced with determination; he was going to shave his hair before the chemo takes any more from him. It was a childish way of thinking but it’s was going to get him through this moment. Whipping out his phone and group texting everyone to get onto skype stat, Stiles opened up the laptop once more, logged on and went to grab the necessities from the bathroom upstairs. Derek was following along with a vague knowledge on what his boyfriend was doing, holding all the items that Stiles passed to him on his mission; a couple towels, clippers and a razor and shaving cream, before they went back downstairs to the living room. He even grabbed a chair and struggled to drag it over – _fuck_ he hated chemo for making him weak as a kitten sometimes – so he could sit upright without having to get the sofa dirty with the extra hair that could fall off.

Scott was online first and when they started the call the true alpha was sitting with Kira, their expressions twisted with confusion and concern asking about the text. Stiles just waved his hand dismissively and said he wouldn’t say anything until everyone was up because he didn’t want to say it multiple times.

They chatted a little more, Scott whipping out a couple books that he’d found was amazing for his studying – “honestly this is better than the stuff they give you in class.” – and Kira was on her second cup of coffee before Malia came up and joined the call. Her bedhead was a thing of legend, she’d found a way for it to defy gravity at some ends. She definitely wasn’t happy about being woken for a potential emergency this early in the morning. Lydia was the last one to arrive, of course, and graced them with her flawless face that looked like she was getting ready for a photo-shoot instead of it being eight in the morning for a simple skype session with the pack. “So, why have you called us for this meeting when we just spend hours with you guys last night?”

“That’s a good question, I’m glad you asked.” Stiles’ voice was scratchy for his morning, accepting his meds and throwing them back with a gulp of water Isaac presented earlier on the coffee table. He placed the bigger towel on the floor before moving the chair over it so if any hair does fall it’ll be caught on the towel and not imbedded in to the carpet. “Thanks to the wonderful cell destruction of chemo, my hair’s falling out. So for this historical moment I thought you guys would like to watch Derek shave my head.”

He was playing it off to the rest of the pack as something trivial, they didn’t have to know he was bawling his eyes out only half an hour earlier. He was used to putting on a brave face for this and a part of him was glad a lot of the pack was away because he could pretend everything is alright and they wouldn’t know. It wasn’t like Isaac or Derek were going to speak up about it. Angling the camera to the chair properly, Stiles sat down and placed the smaller towel over his shoulders and let out a deep sigh, Derek coming up behind him to place his wide hands on his forearms, rubbing slowly to soothe his anxiety before getting to the main event. Isaac started a video on his camera once Derek plugged the clippers in and started them up and got behind the teenager once more. “Are you ready?”

“Let’s get this show on the road.” He could hear the support coming from the laptop even if they were going in and out of focus a little from the internet problems. Soon enough though it was background noise as Derek turned on the clippers and started cutting away at his hair, the hum vibrating on his head as the clippers got as close as possible. It brought another rush of tears to his eyes knowing that when these few minutes are over he won’t have a head of hair for who knows how long, could take years for him to get back what he had. If he was thinking negatively, he could be bald for the rest of his life and die with his tumor.

He felt like he was watching one of those shows that go through a montage, his hair dropping in clumps as Derek takes as much as he can with one swoop with his friends oohing in the background. Soon enough though Derek turned the clippers off and set them aside, grabbing the mirror and letting Stiles have a look at the finished product. At first Stiles was surprised; there was still a small amount of fuzz on the top of his head since it was a close shave, clippers couldn’t do everything and if he wanted to get rid of it all then they’d have to get the razor. It did look strange though, there were patches of bald spots around the prickled hair and when he ran his fingers along them it was so smooth. “This is so weird.”

“You look like you did at the beginning of high school, dude.” Scott’s voice picked up and Lydia made a noise in agreement, half paying attention while she sips on her morning coffee. Kira was talking excitedly about how she just picked up the hobby of knitting and can make a bunch of hats for Stiles but right now he was far too interested in the peculiar sensation when he ran his fingertips along his head. He saw a flash in the corner of his vision and noticed Isaac taking a picture, probably to send to everyone and he should have been annoyed that the beta was doing it without his permission but ended up asking him to print it off so he could put it in his notebook for a memory.

“Do you want me to shave it completely or leave it like this?” Derek’s voice was soft next to him as he moved Stiles’ hand away from what was left of his hair. Stiles just shook his head, he might as well keep it like this for as long as possible and watch how the bald spots spread.

They ended the skype call after everyone said their good lucks and goodbye’s for now, leaving the three of them to pitter around cleaning up; Derek had carefully collected all the hair onto the towel and took it outside so the tufts of hair could be free in the wind. Stiles put everything back into their respective spots upstairs, cleaning the clippers up before setting them away while Isaac moved the chair back into the kitchen and got the broom out to sweep up the straggling hair left behind on the carpet. Things continued onwards like normal after that, Stiles bustling his boyfriend out the kitchen so he could cook breakfast for the three of them before Isaac bid farewell and left to work at the vet clinic.

Derek came up behind Stiles once more, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s thin waist and nuzzling is nose into Stiles’ neck. He’s always careful with the teen but now especially with how frail he was becoming the further on chemo he was, even when Stiles complained that he wasn’t glass he was beginning to see more bone than before. It was easy for Derek to admit he was worried but he’d never tell Stiles anything. Instead, he just kisses the teen’s shoulder and tried to do most of the strenuous things behind the scenes before Stiles even notices and has a go at him. Stiles was cleaning the dishes and tilting his head to the side to the let the alpha have room to kiss and nibble at his neck. “You make amazing pancakes.”

“I make amazing _everything_. Except ice cream, remember I tried to make ice cream that one time and, yeah, can’t make that.” Stiles rambled on, his thoughts slowing and melting the more Derek rubbed at his hips and kissed along his neck. The werewolf knew all the spots that made Stiles’ blood travel south and played it to his advantage at the worst – or best – of times. They just got rid of his hair and it was something Stiles was completely insecure about, thinking Derek wouldn’t be that attracted to him because of it but apparently he didn’t have to worry about anything by the way the alpha was grinding against his ass like that. Letting out a breathy laugh, Stiles turned in Derek’s arms to face him. “So, me being bald really gets your knot going, huh wolfy?”

“Your _courage_ gets me going.” Derek chose to ignore the knot comment, lifting the teen up by his thighs and carrying him out the kitchen and up the stairs. Stiles just clung to him, eyes blown wide with a sudden burst of lust that Derek was proud of everything he does. If he knew being brave would turn Derek on so much he’d have to note that down for future use. By the way Derek dropped him on the bed to bounce on the mattress while he practically ripped his shirt off, he knew he was in for a couple rounds at least that he could be as loud as he wanted. Oh the joys of being home alone.

\--

Walking into the police station in the afternoon, Stiles held his head up high and tried to ignore the looks that the officers had when they lifted their heads to turn to him. Right now he didn’t care; he was happily sated with his hips joyously sore by Derek’s attention and he had confidence in himself knowing no one would say anything to him. Still, their expressions was enough that they didn’t even need to speak. At least Jordan didn’t feel bad for him, holding his hand out for a high-five.

“Oh, Stiles.” Before Stiles knew it he was being enveloped in his father’s arms, the sheriff must have saw him from his office. For a moment the teen felt guilty that he didn’t tell his dad beforehand so he would be informed, but he knew the sheriff would have still felt bad even if he was watching it happen. This would be a shock and pull at his heart strings for a little while but he would get used to it, just like Stiles was trying to. Being pulled back, he let his father have a good look, lowering his head when the sheriff’s hand went up to feel the strange bald patches there.

It probably brought back disturbing memories of when Stiles used to shave his head when his mother was sick, as a way to make her feel better too. It wasn’t the same sickness but she still had to have her hair cut which always made her feel insecure, so Stiles went home one night and shave straight through the middle of his hair. His father caught him in the act and helped him shave the rest so he could go back to the hospital the next day to show his mum.

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting go of his son and bringing him into the office so they could talk. He couldn’t take his eyes of Stiles’ new hairstyle even though he knew it was rude to stare.  He didn’t know his son’s thought on being bald, he could hate it or he could think it was empowering, he could just think of it with a logical mind that if he shaved now he wouldn’t have the heartbreak later on. “Do you want a wig, I could buy you one.”

“A _wig_?”  Stiles scoffed as he sat down on the comfortable office chair. He hadn’t thought about wearing a wig; he’s thought about hats sure but when he thinks of wigs he thinks hiding himself and creating a lie. People who have no hair sometimes wear wigs, others wear head scarfs, or hats. It’s a way for them to feel confident when going outside, to feel a sense of grounding and while Stiles sometimes wanted to wear a hat if he was feeling self-conscious, he won’t be wearing a wig. “No I’m fine just the way I am.”

He could go out wig shopping with his friends for a laugh though, just to get a feel.

Stiles saw his father nod his head and with his thinking face on. From experience Stiles knows he’s not out of the woods yet, it was a look that got him grounded many times. “What about your school online, how’s that going?”

Oh, is that all he was worried about? Visibly relaxing into his seat he thought a moment before explaining it so his dad could understand, knowing if he went into a full speech about how their classes worked he would get questioned about everything. Better to narrow it down. “It’s pretty easy routine actually, since they record the class and a couple hours later it’s uploaded for students to watch online. They give me a weekly due date for my homework, and I’ve only had to email a teacher a couple of times needing help explaining.”

“And have you done all your homework for this week?”

“I have one assignment left. Don’t worry dad, I’m all set.” Stiles loved that his father cared about his education, but he knew that his dad was acting more concerned than he would be if he was physically going to school. Which meant he was still treading on eggshells about Stiles. He’s never wanted to feel fragile, it’s why he fought to stay in school, to keep the job at the station, to get through chemo and fight his tumor. Sometimes he may feel knocked down and out but after a couple hours of moping he got right back up again, mostly because he wanted to be the one to kick cancer up the ass and tell it who’s boss but also because he knew it would only make his father more sad if he gave up. He didn’t want to let anyone down.

Standing up and patting his father’s shoulder on the way out, Stiles went to his usual spot in the filing room and got back to work, his mind reeling with the conversation he just had. He would show everyone he wasn’t weak, he didn’t have to be looked after, he wasn’t going to take it lying down. He was going to beat this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thank you for sticking with me for this story! This chapter is going to hit a couple heartstrings.

It’s been a month since Stiles got Derek to shave off his hair and for a couple of weeks his hair was still patchy but soon enough the chemo won out and now Stiles had a shiny bald head. He sometimes doesn’t remember that he’s bald, getting the gel out and grabbing a handful before he realizes and has to put as much back into the pot as he could so he doesn’t waste it, angrily washing his hands.

He got a surprise when Lydia came by, she had apparently taken the two hour trip to Stiles’ house during the weekend in order to show him how to draw eyebrows along with some other important make up tips and fashion statements now he’s trying to gain confidence with his shiny noggin. She didn’t even get mad when he used most of her eye pencil on a failed attempt. Isaac was recording the whole thing; running away howling with laughter when Stiles chased after him with one badly lifted eyebrow and the other a perfect arch. Scott was so upset when he saw Lydia snuggling up to Stiles on skype for their weekly pack call – “If I knew she was going to go to then I would have come!” – and made plans to go down the next weekend instead for a guy’s night filled with snacks, video games and lounging around in their underwear.

Even Derek joined in with the video games for a little while, getting thrashed heavily by Stiles so he ended up stealing all of their M&M’s as a childish revenge.

While Scott was still in town, Stiles decided to go wig shopping for the fun of it just to see what he’d look like. So Derek, Scott, Isaac and Stiles all went down to the nearest costume shop. They had a good amount of wigs in stock ranging from different sizes, colors and styles. Of course it was Stiles’ mission to get Derek to wear the green mohawk. They took a couple of pictures of Stiles wearing different length wigs, sending one to his father while wearing a blonde wig with the caption ‘remind me never to bleach my hair’.

In all honestly he didn’t want to wear a wig, he’s told everyone when they asked that he’s content to just be bald or wear a hat when it gets too cold. So Stiles always gets mail every couple of weeks with a package and he knows it’s a new hat, he’s beginning to get a small collection of the fuckers. Most of them are beanie hats with something to do with comics or marvel but every now and again he gets a star wars one too, even Derek gave him a woolen beanie with a cap so he could keep the sun out of his eyes as well as keep his head warm.

The best one he’s got is a personal knitted hat by Kira; it’s a grey beanie with wolf ears sewn on and little Derek’s triskele on one of the ears. He loves it and wears it most of the time even when he’s sleeping, whenever someone tries to argue that he wears it too often it’ll get dirty he makes a point that he’s the one with the bald head and he can wear what he wants.

At the end of his chemo when he grows his hair back he’s thinking about donating most of these hats to the kids in the hospital so they could wear cool beanies, because he’s never going to wear them all. He’s not much of a hat person anyway.

His university was praising his efforts, giving him extra homework when he asks. Stiles’ getting mostly B’s but he gets a couple of A’s that makes him dance around the kitchen while baking celebration cookies. He’s going to do well; he’s going to show people that he wasn’t some sad case that was going to be held back from his future because of his illness. He’s going to achieve. Stiles is meant to go into the university soon to talk with the teachers about who knows what, he’s nervous because he’s never met them before and while they know he has a tumor, they haven’t seen the outcome that he’s going through.

He knows stressing out isn’t going to help his cognitive thoughts and it shows because he ends up forgetting a recipe that he knew for years, punching his thighs until Derek grabbed at his wrists to stop him from causing any more damage onto himself. Breathing exercises were a thing of beauty; taking a deep breath in and holding for a few second before exhaling sounds like bullshit for a remedy but it does work for Stiles, after a few minutes of this he goes back to cooking now that he remembered that the recipe is written in a book on top of the fridge.

Stiles was moping for a short while; he ended up destroying his room in order to find something that was actually downstairs after all. But on the plus side he found his old CD collection and decided to put it on for old time sakes and with every song came something he remembers from the past that stuck to the song of choice. He closed his eyes and listened to the music, lying back on the bed to let each wave of nostalgia hit him pleasantly. It was only when he started up the My Chemical Romance CD that he started to feel sorrow because this was the time when his mother was gone and he focused on his therapist’s advice to create an outlet for his grief. Funny how music can keep memories for everyone and listening to it once more brings up the same thoughts and emotions at the time.

He ended up just jamming out to the band, arms coming up to beat an imaginary drum to the beat and sing along. Either he hadn’t listened to many of these songs, or he’d forgotten them since they had no meaning to him at the time, Stiles paid attention to each new song that came up. It was only until he heard a soft piano entrance before the singer began with a shaky voice. _Turn away, if you could get me a drink…_

Stiles’ eyes flickered open for a moment with a deep frown appearing because he remembers this song, it was called Cancer. He shouldn’t listen to it, sitting up to turn it off when a part of him stopped. While it didn’t pair up with him back then with his mother, it certainly matched with his life right now. It was a short song but it had the more meaning to him now than any other song on the album. It was about cancer, from someone who’s going through it and their fears, their thoughts, on how they’ll end up.

He was tearing up just from the first verse and sure enough wiping the tears away wasn’t enough after that, sobbing to the song because it was right. It hit everything that Stiles was going through, how he’s insecure about his body and doesn’t want Derek to look sometimes because he hasn’t got any hair, how he’s skin and bone and looks dead. How he gets mood swings because he thinks that he won’t be able to live through this, lashing out at everyone around him and then blames it on the tumor, on the chemo.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice made him lift his head, the alpha coming over to kneel in front of him to see if everything’s alright. He must reek of misery to the werewolf. Derek moved to turn off the CD player but was quickly stopped when Stiles reached out to intercept, his frown deep with concern and confusion. “You shouldn’t listen to this, it’s making you sad.”

“Let me be sad. Sit here with me?” He could see the alphas inner cogs turning trying to think up the best way to handle the situation, Stiles tugging him up into the bed as he restarted the song once more and letting him listen too. He wanted to get the point across that the song fit him perfectly, hearing it again brought up a fresh wave of tears because he could hear him saying all of this to Derek. That if he left then Stiles would forgive him, or that he doesn’t want to let Derek see him when he’s in this state. ‘ _Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you…_

He heard Derek let out a soft noise at the song, those thick arms wrapping around his waist and holding onto him to keep his body warm. He never liked Stiles crying and especially because of something self-conflicting, but he didn’t complain, he listened to the end of the song before leaning over the teen to turn off the CD player and lay back down. He listened to Stiles hiccup and sniff as he wiped his ebbing tears away on his sleeve, kissing his shoulder as he rumbled in hopes it would soothe him. “You’re not going to leave me and I’m never going to leave you.”

“If I _do_ die. Don’t…” Stiles couldn’t think of what to say, the lump in his throat thickening so he had to swallow before speaking once more. He thought about dying, Derek at his death bed, maybe he was at the hospital or something. Or he got put in a coma or something and couldn’t say anything before they turned off his support. He needed to tell him before any of that happens; he could die tomorrow for all he knew. “Don’t forget about me, but move on. Promise me.”

“Stiles –.”

“Please promise me.” Stiles tightened his grip on Derek’s arms around his waist, hearing the alpha’s breath hitch. He could tell Derek didn’t want to agree to that term, that he wanted to believe Stiles will get through this and they’ll live happily ever after, but they both had to think of a more realistic outcome. Stiles didn’t want to be the person who made Derek become lifeless, a shell of the man he was because of a death. He knows the werewolf has already lost so much but he overcame that and moved on, and Stiles wants that to happen with him too. He didn’t want Derek to turn out like his dad was, and without someone there to break him out of it he would stay like that forever.

Squeezing the werewolf’s arm once more, Stiles leaned back more into Derek’s embrace as his cheeks dried of tears, leaving behind a slightly itchy feeling. He heard Derek let out a shaky breath before feeling him nod against the back of his neck. “I promise.”

\--

When Stiles said he was meeting his university teachers soon he didn’t mean for it to be the _next week_ , but it was the perfect opportunity since his father wanted to be there instead of Derek and his schedule was going to get super busy with an oncoming case being passed down from the neighboring town since they had too much on their plate right now and they were going to pass the files next week. The drive up didn’t take that long but for Stiles it felt like forever, he’s been fumbling a lot today and reaching for everything so he could have something to hold onto, something to play and fiddle with. His brain had been all over the place with trying to balance his school, his treatments, his relationship with his friends, father and boyfriend, along with several other things that may seem unnecessary – like needing to go grocery shopping because he was going to make bolognese tonight and they had no mince – to stress over but for Stiles right now it was so important. He took a couple of pain medication before leaving for the trip though so that helped him from having to complain to his dad about buying some from a store somewhere.

Arriving at the school, Stiles was impressed with how prestige it looked. There were several buildings and since Stiles hadn’t been there before apart from searching it up online, he’d thought up what it would look like something from the movies with busy people buzzing around with hundreds of textbooks and musicians sitting on the grass playing the guitar or whatever. It was none of these things, mostly it was empty since it was just hitting the end of the last period or so Stiles had assumed.

Stiles imagined the inside would have banners everywhere for upcoming events in hopes it would snag people’s attention but no, the halls were pretty bland looking apart from an award cabinet off to the side. Heading down to the reception, the sheriff spoke to the lady so she could do her thing at wrangling the many teachers to whatever meeting room they were going to, making them sit and wait. The teen fiddled with his hat – he opted to go with a more subtle beanie today and not comic book inspired, it was just a dark green with a couple of neon green swirls on the side – as a distraction while they sat, John patting his son’s leg with a proud smile that clearly said ‘my boy is so smart to be going to school here’.

They had to wait quite a while since most of the teachers that Stiles had were in class at the moment but soon enough the bell rang and with that came the rush of people come out with their bags with no doubt a huge collection of books, laptops, notepads and whatever else they needed to jot down information for their assignments. Stiles thought they’d notice him and start to gossip but then he realized this wasn’t high school and no one cares who you are here as long as you get the job done; you’re here because you want to be, not because the government put you in school for a certain amount of years. The first one to arrive was the principal, smiling warmly and shaking their hands. He was a bald man with a rather tight looking suit on and for a moment Stiles was afraid one of the shirt buttons would pop off the guy’s shirt and hit him in the face. He led them to a meeting room, a big round table with many chairs situated around them. “I feel like King Arthur at the round table.”

“Well this session _is_ all about you, Mr Stilinski.” The principal stated with a chuckle and sat down, beginning to talk about what this meeting was about so they don’t feel ambushed or uncomfortable. Apparently they get so many good marks from Stiles’ online work that they’d give him a scholarship without a doubt, but with the first set of exams coming up they’re all worried that he won’t be able to do it online. So they were all going to figure out a way to help Stiles out so he can pass his exams.

Soon enough the teachers all filtered into the room, shaking both Stiles and his father’s hands and they came in, apologizing for being late. They started off the meeting showing files of Stiles’ work history that had been printed off by the teachers so they could mark properly and the teen couldn’t help but feel the rush of achievement when he noticed the sheriff’s chest puffing out in pride that his son was so educated. They spoke about the possible ideas of Stiles moving to a dorm for a couple of weeks but that was ruled out right away since Stiles was having treatment once a week. His father spoke for him most of the time because Stiles was far too interested in rubbing his feet – he came in sandals and socks – due to the fact that he had his chemo a couple of days ago and his feet were aching like mother fuckers. That and his head was throbbing intensely that made him wince every now and again, but nodded his head and spoke up when he felt he needed to.

He really didn’t mean to be so rude but after about forty minutes of the meeting his head started thumping so heavily he had to close his eyes and rub his temples for a couple of minutes. They obviously all saw and asked if he was alright, not wanting to say anything that would upset Stiles since they didn’t know how he treats his tumor or whatever. “I’ll be fine, just a bad headache.”

John perched a hand on Stiles’ shoulder for a moment before checking the time, fumbling in his pocket for the painkillers which Stiles took and smiled gratefully to one of the teachers – his English teacher apparently – who passed him a cup of water from the dispenser in the corner. He knows he shouldn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed that he needed to be cared for but he just hated the pitying looks they gave him, even if they weren’t trying to offend him it just put Stiles into a mood. They got through the meeting relatively quickly after that since they didn’t want to make Stiles’ health worse since they knew nothing about the teen’s condition, just over an hour in and they ended with another round of shaking hands and ‘nice to finally meet you’.

They let themselves out with a couple documents that the sheriff had folded and put in his pocket to go over at home, his arm being placed on the center of Stiles’ back. It should have been comforting that his father cared about him but right now he just felt more of a burden; he couldn’t even get through one meeting that was super important to him without something getting in the way. At least they got across everything they needed to but Stiles still felt guilty.

They drove home in silence, Stiles trying to get as much sleep as he could but his thumb kept rubbing over the bruise on the back of his hand from the needle that they used to put in the IV. His skin marked so easily nowadays and while it was partially sexy since all Derek had to do was grab his hips and squeeze a little to get a bruise out of him, Stiles knew it was because his body was getting fragile. He wouldn’t complain though, he’d make sure everyone would be proud of him and not treat him like some sad story.

When they arrived home Derek was in the living room cleaning up, the house looked spotless and Stiles couldn’t stifle a snort because he knew the alpha loved to make his den a cozy environment. He does it every now and again when Stiles has come back from the hospital and he’s asleep most of the day while the sheriff returns to the station, it’s his way of keeping busy while waiting for his boyfriend to wake up so he can pamper him. John didn’t seem to mind that Derek was touching all their things, his eyes darting around everywhere impressed. “If I knew you’d clean I would have invited you over here more often, son.”

Derek just nodded him head with a shy blush appearing on his cheeks, coming over to greet Stiles and frowning when he breathed in. Stiles already knew he probably smelled like pain or some sort of misery; his head was killing him and he couldn’t take any more painkillers for a couple more hours which left him to soldier through it. The teen just shook his head after he took off his beanie, scratching his head and avoiding the alpha’s eyes in a silent plea not to say anything while his father was around, not wanting to cause any unnecessary stress if he didn’t need to. Derek looked pinched about it but accepted, putting his hand behind Stiles’ head to pull out some of his pain when the sheriff went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee before he was due to the station.

To state his boyfriend’s mother hen attention, Stiles sat down on the sofa and sighed softly in pleasure when Derek lifted his feet onto his lap and started massaging. Honestly, Derek was the king of massages. It’s like he knows exactly where it aches and does his werewolf mojo along with grinding the tips of his thumbs in, leaving Stiles to melt into a puddle of pleasure. If he wasn’t so exhausted he would have gladly given the werewolf a blowjob to show his appreciation but he ended up just groaning his satisfaction.

“Right, I’m off kiddo. You have a good night, you too Derek.” The sheriff ran his hand over Stiles’ head; it was a replacement of ruffling his hair since he didn’t have any. Stiles didn’t mind really but playfully swatted at his father’s hand causing the man to laugh and leave him be, waving and leaving with his precious coffee in a thermos cup for the road.

The couple turned on the television, setting it to a show that would become white noise to them while Derek pampered his boyfriend. It was almost time for him to be allowed some more painkillers and he was looking forward to having this aggressive headache stamped out once more, Derek’s mojo could only do so much. It was a small tragedy when Derek stopped rubbing his feet, getting up to make them a drink and some snacks since Stiles hadn’t eaten for a few hours and he needed something to go along with his pills, his stomach rumbling at the thought of food.

Getting up all wobbly, Stiles entered the kitchen and rested his forehead against Derek’s back for a moment, taking the drink being passed to him and sitting at the table with a soft sigh. The werewolf placed a plate in front of him before taking a seat opposite with his own and digging in, it was only a sandwich since the teen hadn’t felt that interested in food for a little while, he wasn’t going to let his appetite win out though and forced it down. He would only get weaker if he paid attention to his body and not eat. If he didn’t eat then he’d also not be able to take some meds which only spurred the teen on more, standing up and setting everything in the sink once he was done and going to the cupboard to get some out, frowning when he couldn’t find any. That was weird. “Oh fucking – Derek, dad must still have my pain pills in his pocket and taken it with him. I need them.”

Derek finished his mouthful before speaking, ever the polite one. “Do you want me to go get them?”

“Yeah, or if he’s out on patrol then get something from the store.” Taking out the tray of medicine and searching through once more to check he definitely didn’t have anything he could take to ease the throbbing in his head. He turned when Derek set his plates in the sink as well, his mouth set in a worried frown. Of course he didn’t want to leave Stiles alone when he was in pain, but it would only get worse if he didn’t have anything to take. “I’ll be fine, now go.”

“I’ll be ten minutes. Tops.” Grabbing his keys and coming over, Derek placed his hands on his boyfriend’s head once more to pull his pain, black lines going up his arms that made Stiles let out a sigh of pleasure being relieved from some of the tension. With a quick peck on his lips he left to his car, pulling out the driveway in a hurry. Stiles couldn’t help but scoff at how he got so lucky having a boyfriend like Derek to take care of his every needs and wants.

He did the dishes and set it all out to dry while going up the stairs to use the bathroom, his legs feeling a little shakier the more he used them but he soldiered through. It was only until he was washing his hands that he felt the world start to spin, making Stiles close his eyes with a gasp at the pain in his head becoming tenfold. Holy _fuck_. What was happening to him?

Opening his eyes to leave the bathroom and find his phone, Stiles felt his body betray him. He felt as if he was walking on air, unable to feel his feet as another wave of dizziness struck him and making him lose his balance. He was going to throw up at this rate. Stiles tried to reach out for the wall as a stabilizer but it only helped in making him lose his footing, the teen falling down and he couldn’t stop it. He only watched as the wall got closer and closer until it finally collided with his forehead creating a thick wave of pain enough to make the world go black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me how you guys feel about this chapter! I love hearing your comments. 
> 
> In case any of you guys wanted to listen to the My Chemical Romance song Cancer, here it is! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3lYFRiDTkA
> 
> Edit: 27/4/17   
> Hey guys! So the plan was to post the next chapter at the end of the month but I've damaged my right hand and it's very difficult for me to type. Not sure when it'll be back up and running I'm so sorry!!!
> 
> Hopefully it'll be healed soon! In the meantime you guys will have to be patient and stay with me!! <3 - Zeath


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm so sorry for the wait! My wrist and fingers still aren't at their best so typing at my normal pace isn't that strong right now. I do hope you enjoy this chapter though!!

When Derek arrived at the Stilinski household he heard Stiles’ heartbeat, slow and steady like he was sleeping. It was a good thing if he wasn’t feeling well; sleep was the best medicine sometimes when it came to headaches. He entered quietly, setting his keys down and taking his shoes off, his ears pricked to Stiles’ destination from his heartbeat. He knew how far Stiles’ room was from the front door and yet it sounded closer but still upstairs. Appeared more like the bathroom, why was he asleep in the bathroom? Heading upstairs carefully to not make the steps creak, Derek’s heart stopped momentarily when he saw Stiles’ body lying face down in the hallway.

“ _Stiles_?!” Rushing over to him in full panic mode, Derek was gentle when he rolled the teen over, noticing a nasty bruise forming on Stiles’ head where he must have hit the wall. He didn’t know what was wrong, Stiles was mostly likely passed out but he didn’t know _why_. So he did what anyone would do, Derek lifted Stiles up and carried him downstairs, grabbing the phone and calling for an ambulance. He didn’t want to drive there because then he’d have to wait in traffic and an ambulance would give him medical attention right away while they were driving. After he ended the call, Derek took Stiles’ hand and listened to the teen’s heartbeat to keep him sane. “Stay with me Stiles.”

He counted the seconds until he heard sirens in the background, hurrying over to open the door so the paramedics could get inside before returning to his unconscious boyfriend. He tried not to get too protective over the way they entered and moved him away so they could check his vitals, Derek told them what had happened; he found Stiles that way, that he had a steady heartbeat and must have bumped his head on the wall upstairs. He kept out the supernatural parts obviously.

The paramedics rolled Stiles out on the stretcher with an oxygen mask on, it was mandatory that every patient use it if they’ve had some sort of head or respiratory trauma but it still made Derek’s heart ache. Seeing Stiles so small bundled in the ambulances blankets on the stretcher, so pale and fragile with a darkening bruise on his head. He was just glad that his father was having a night shift or he would have been going for the bottle already. They allowed Derek to ride with him to the hospital, the werewolf staying out the way and simply holding Stiles’ hand.

Melissa was on shift tonight too apparently, meeting them at the door and running with the paramedics as they wheeled Stiles through to an emergency room. The nurses kept Derek at bay so he had to rely on his hearing; most of it was too complicated in the health vocabulary for him to decipher but apparently they were hooking him up with some drugs, a nurse speaking about Stiles’ medical history to a doctor Derek assumes, who called for an MRI to check if the tumor was the thing causing him to pass out. Melissa came out after a few minutes to meet Derek, moving him further away from the door while the other nurses wheeled Stiles out to the elevator probably for that MRI scan. “Derek, have you told John about this yet?”

“No, no I’ve not thought. Shit. Is he. Is Stiles going to be alright?” Already pulling out his phone, Derek mentally berated himself that he hasn’t even told the sheriff that his own _son_ was in hospital unconscious. Melissa sat him down on one of the seats in the waiting room, coming to sit next to him and run him through the procedures they’re doing to Stiles. Apparently his blood levels were all over the place and they’d have to run some more tests for everyone to know what was wrong but it’s a chance the tumor could have been the cause or the treatment only prolonging the problem. She stayed with him explaining things in a soft yet professional way that made Derek think about his mother in these moments, how she would handle something like this the exact way Melissa was right now; she was obviously distressed about Stiles’ predicament but she had her head on straight and was thinking logically like his mother would have, giving out orders and guiding people through the worst of it.

When the nurse left him to get back to her duties, Derek dialed the sheriff’s number and gritted his teeth when it went straight to voicemail. He couldn’t wait for sheriff to finish whatever he was doing, calling the station and getting the receptionist. “Is sheriff Stilinski there?”

“No, he’s out on patrol at the moment. Is there anything you need assistance with?” The woman spoke calmly just edging Derek’s nerves on more, practically vibrating in the uncomfortable plastic chair provided in the waiting room.

“This is Derek Hale. It’s about Stiles, he’s in the hospital. Get the sheriff, tell him to meet us at the hospital.” The werewolf heard the woman’s voice change as she picked up what sounded like the radio, calling it in for John to know. While she was explaining that the sheriff might be busy at the moment with what he was doing when Derek heard the radio crackle on the receiver with John’s obvious alarm in the pitch of his voice.

“The sheriff has been notified Derek, he’ll be with you as soon as possible.” She hung up after that but Derek didn’t care because he was already beginning to text the pack about Stiles’ health. This was all he could do right now to keep himself from going astray, from pacing and punching walls because this was _his_ fuck up. It was all his fault. He should never have left Stiles alone when he complained about a headache; it was the pain that got them into this mess. He was supposed to protect his boyfriend, to take care of him when he needed it the most and he left, albeit to get medicine, but still. He could have taken Stiles with him.

 _Fuck_ , he was to blame and he hated himself for it.

The sheriff sped through the waiting room a few minutes later panting heavily, eyes zeroing on the alpha and making his way over to grab his shoulders, jolting Derek out of his thoughts. “Derek, what happened?”

“I don’t. I. I went to get the headache pills. I came back and Stiles was…” Derek couldn’t think straight, he could see the pain and terror in John’s eyes, obviously thinking the worst. Shaking his head in attempt to get rid of the image of Stiles on the floor like that, eyes closed peacefully yet that bruise on his head the only sign of damage. His phone was starting to blow up with texts and missed calls from the pack but Derek was spiraling in on himself, his self-hatred along with the guilt and fear for Stiles was dragging him down. Derek didn’t even realize he was crying until he was brought into the sheriff’s arms, making him take in a deep breath and let out a choked sob.

He doesn’t remember how long it’s been since he cried. Maybe the day his home was burned down with all of his family members inside besides him, Cora and Laura. Derek remembers how the sheriff was there too, pulling him close and letting him sob for hours at the station. Not much has changed apparently; he still cried heavily into the sheriff’s uniform and apologized. Because it was his fault, just like the fire, he hurt everyone he loved eventually and returned in time only to see them being taken away from him.

John needed to know though, what Stiles’ condition was. He couldn’t just cry, he was probably worrying the sheriff more thinking it was worse than it actually was. O he sucked it up, practically hauling his emotions back behind his well build wall from where they escaped so sneakily. “He fell. Bumped his head and was unconscious when I got to him. His heartbeat was steady.”

“Thank you, son.” John let go of Derek and patted his shoulder, letting him sit back down in the waiting room and went to the front desk, requesting Melissa since he knew for a fact that anything involving his family would involve the nurse. He was allowed more information since he was a parent and because of Derek’s supernatural hearing he wouldn’t have to repeat himself. Alongside that was his sheriff rank which allowed him to pull a couple of strings when it came to his only child. Melissa gave him a wider evaluation of Stiles’ health; heartbeat a little lower than his average and a nasty bump on the head which was most certainly a factor of him being unconscious, he was currently getting an MRI to scan the tumor along with any other kind of injury that might have been caused from the fall. They were going to be giving him a single room though because no doubt the pack would be coming down for this and want to watch him.

When John returned to the waiting room Isaac was sitting next to Derek with his leg bouncing in anxious wait for any kind of news. The alpha’s head was tilted and no doubt listening in to the procedures upstairs for anything. All they could do was wait.

\--

The first thing Stiles heard when he woke up was the rhythmic beeping from a monitor. Whenever he breathed in his nose would get cold, further notifying Stiles that he was in a hospital and had an oxygen tube stuck to his nose. He tried to open his eyes but they were glued shut. He couldn’t feel his headache though so that was always a plus, if only he could _open his fucking eyes_.

Giving up on his sight for now, Stiles focused on moving his hands and gave himself an imaginary pat on the back when he felt his fingers twitch. He then attempted to talk but his tongue was apparently made of solid rock because he could barely move it, his voice just air when he opened his mouth to speak. He heard some movement and then a warm hand taking hold of his freakishly freezing ones. Holy shit why was he so cold? “Stiles, are you awake? Stiles?”

That was Isaac’s voice full of hope and Stiles couldn’t tell him he was there, couldn’t even get his eyelids to unlatch so he just twitched his fingers a couple more times. It seemed to get the message across, Isaac gasping and then rushing out the room probably to get the doctor. Meanwhile he was still trying to get his eyes open – either forcibly with his fingers once he could lift his arms, or by their weird eye glue deteriorating – the struggle was real. The door opened once more along with more voice from multiple people, a hand grabbing his and man that warmth hit the spot. He recognized those calloused hands and intense heat anywhere; Derek. There was also a weight dipping the bed a little, his other hand being taken and patted gently. There was other voices in the room, soft speaking as if to hide a secret from him. He recognized Scott’s voice along with Lydia’s hushed yet sharp tongue.

Aha! Stiles popped one eye open and wiggled his fingers in glee when the other followed suit. Fuck it was bright in here. The first thing he saw was his father’s face filled with worry lines but relief in his eyes. “Stiles, I’m so glad you’re alright.”

The pack was all here minus Malia, Melissa coming through the group to check everything was alright before giving him routine questions that made Stiles give her an aggrieved look because once again he couldn’t speak. “Don’t give me that, you know it’s protocol. Do you want some water?”

That would be lovely right about now, Derek quickly grabbing the styrofoam cup with a straw in and holding it out for Stiles to sip from and _heavenly gods_ this was the best water in the world. He could write sonnets on this crisp cold water that hydrated his entire being. Pulling the straw away and sighing a much needed breath now his tongue no longer felt like a concrete block, resting back on the pillow which he just realized was his own – Derek must have got it for him, he knows how Stiles can’t get a proper good night’s sleep without it – and the thing hugging his head must be a beanie they picked up along the way, at least it was keeping his ears warm. His voice was slightly hoarse from not being used for however long, he should ask about that. “How long was I out?”

“Two days.” Stiles’ face crumpled because, _what_? Two days? How did that even happen? Melissa noticed his expression and answered for him before he could speak up. “The doctor should come in a few moments to catch you up to speed. I have to see a couple other patients. It’s good to have you back with us.”

With that she left him with the pack and his father. That was a lot to take in, the last thing he remembers was that he tripped or fell or something. The hallway wall was so close then nothing. He must have hit his head. Everyone moved closer now he was awake so they wouldn’t interrupt him, scooting their chairs to the edges of the bed to be close as they could to him without actually get up on the bed. Turning his head to the side Stiles saw Derek’s face more sour than before and the teen could tell there was obvious stress. He wanted to say something meaningful but all he could think of was the last movie he saw with Derek, which just so happened to be Finding Nemo. “Grumpy Gills.”

The entire room let out a heavy sigh, as if the words were physically draining them of the will to live. Derek couldn’t help but smile after though, leaning in to peck Stiles’ lips because he knows why he said that, he understands his boyfriend’s thought process – a hard feat. The doctor came in with his chart and a smile on her face, coming over and rechecking his vitals for herself before going into her long ass speech that Stiles couldn’t really focus on right now but thank god everyone around him was listening attentively. “So, your MRI scans came through and while your tumor hasn’t shrunk since our last picture it shows no bleeding from your nasty bump. Your red blood level count were lower than average which cause have caused you to become light headed enough to fall over and become unconscious. You complained about your feet hurting last time we spoke and while it’s a risk that chemo can cause your appendages to go numb too which would no doubt have assisted you in your fall. Have you been stressed lately?”

While he didn’t catch up on everything he heard the doctor’s tone change to a question, making him tune in once more and turn away from her. The waft of guilt probably wafted up from him for the werewolves to breathe in and Derek gave him a small disappointed look. His father spoke up for him though which wasn’t expected, Stiles’ eyes darting up to him. “He went to his university to have a meeting with all of his teachers about his exams, and he worries about coming to help out at the station every day. Also he always makes sure to get someone to take him grocery shopping.”

“Stiles just wants to feel normal.” Derek pitched in, keeping his eyes to Stiles’ face and holding the teen’s hand when he tried to pull away from the situation because they were all right. He just wanted something to sink his teeth into that he knew how to do and keep to a routine. Maybe he could have told someone about it but in his on defense he wouldn’t have asked for a crutch if he didn’t have the tumor in the first place so why should he get a hand out now? He can do things on his own.

The doctor nodded her head at the two of them, her face not giving anything away as she glanced back down at her notes. “Stress is a big factor when you’re on a treatment this taxing on the body. It’s been a little over four months on chemo correct? I’m surprised you haven’t come in sooner with the same symptoms. Your body needed to rest after exhaustion and I heavily suggest you keep your stress to a minimum for the remainder of your treatment. You can catch up on you rest here since we’re keeping you in for your next session to see if you’ll get any side effects.”

She lifted the bed sheet revealing Stiles’ feet, pinching his toes and asking if he felt them. He struggled and felt some pressure but apparently that wasn’t enough, the doctor nodding her head and asking him if he could wiggle them. That he _could_ do which made her somewhat delighted, writing something down on the notes before pulling the covers back over his feet so they wouldn’t get a chill. “You’ll get the feeling back with exercise and daily walks, but too much will put more stress on your body so we’ll be giving you a wheelchair.”

“That’s too much –.” Stiles tried to interject, he didn’t need to use a wheelchair when he could move his legs _perfectly_ fine on his own but the doctor obviously wasn’t done yet and his father shushed him before he could get his argument across. Oh sure, the man didn’t care about his own health but when it came to his son it meant the world to him.

She slid the notes under her arm and gave him a soft smile. “We’re going to need to do a couple of tests while you’re here too just to be on the safe side, but that’ll be at a later date when you’ve rested some more. I’ll see you soon, Stiles.”

With that she left Stiles to sink more into his pillow while he tried to ignore everyone, it didn’t last long because Scott began talking with excitement trying to fill the silence and lift his friend’s mood. “Dude you know we can totally race wheelchairs.”

They kept Stiles in the hospital for a week since he was due his IV in a couple days’ time, which gave the nurses enough time to plug him full of needles for a seemingly endless amount of blood tests to check up on him. They made him go through yet another MRI which Stiles ended up sleeping through anyway. Much to their word, Melissa came in with a wheelchair for him which he didn’t even use the first day, happy to use the bed and not go anywhere as a protest for having to use such a contraption. Scott was much obliged to use it though, wheeling himself in circles around the room and occasionally knocking into the furniture and the scowling pack.

Derek was there for him when he needed to do his walks; he was supposed to go down the hallway to the receptionist desk and back but Stiles had other plans, using Derek’s body as a stabilizer when he needed since he still couldn’t feel his toes that well. He usually went straight to the vending machine and while the alpha would know exactly where he was going and always commented that it wasn’t good for him to eat the food from the machines – they were expensive _and_ unhealthy – but paid for the junk anyway. Stiles also made sure to find them a secluded area so they could make out without one of the pack members catching them since there was always one of them around him as if he was going to faint any moment. Hardly.

The first time Stiles uses the wheelchair he complained the whole time, mostly because he couldn’t push himself due to his damn arms being too weak. He had to rely on someone to do it for him and they often made a point of wheeling him way too fast down the hallways that the nurses would reprimand them. He hated feeling so useless. He couldn’t even run over their feet when one of them made a comment or started to pamper him – though he did go out of his way to shout ‘mush!’ a lot when one of the werewolves were pushing him, just to get his own back – but he definitely wasn’t going to turn then away when they came in with food from home because honestly hospital food _sucked_.

On the day of Stiles’ chemo session Melissa made a point to shoo away any of the nurses so she would be the sole person taking care of him; setting up everything and slipping his IV in before plunging in the pre meds which once again knocked him out cold for most of the session. The doctor made sure to keep tabs on all of his vitals, Stiles was complaining about all the patches on his chest and arms connecting to the monitors, it was the best they could without drawing blood which wouldn’t be correct anyway since the chemo would be ruining everything. He wasn’t going to lie; being strapped up like this and kept in hospital for this length of time was terrifying for Stiles. It reminded him of his mother and how she took a turn for the worst just like he has, how much this must be destroying his father right now. He made sure to tell Derek to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t himself into an early grave from the worry.

Stiles didn’t care much about anything after half an hour on the premedication, quickly dozing off for a couple of hours while they did their thing and Melissa switched to the hard stuff. He doesn’t know how he’s going to handle being so sick in the hospital, he doesn’t want his dad to see any of the gruesome details in case it brought flashbacks. Stiles knows his routine isn’t going to stop just because he’s not at home; he’s still going to be puking his guts up tomorrow. While the pack know about his routine they haven’t bared witness to the full scale that Stiles underplays while on their skype calls, he didn’t want them to worry about him. Only John, Isaac and Derek know about the brutal day after that Stiles hates the most about his treatment.

He was just waking up properly; there was a tray on his lap that everyone was playing Uno on, Scott dealing everyone’s hands out before setting one card face up for Isaac to play. Stiles was a little too tired to play his own hand but with Derek leaning next to him so close, the teen coupled up with him and laughed weakly when he took down Lydia and heard her mutter threats under her voice that everyone could hear anyway. The door opened and a tall man in scrubs entered, giving everyone a soft smile before his eyes fixed on Stiles. “Hi, Mr Stilinski? I’m Mr Smith, I’ve been given some pictures of your brain and your doctor is becoming increasingly worried that the tumor isn’t shrinking as fast as she would have hoped.”

Stiles frowned at the man, sitting up straighter as if that would help him understand where the guy was coming from. “But she said it was shrinking. That my fall wasn’t anything to do with my tumor, that I was just stressed.”

“Well, while that is mostly true, your doctor and my team have all looked at your timespan for chemotherapy and we’re not satisfied with the results.” Scrubs moved more in the room, taking up the seat that Isaac had emptied in favor of getting closer to Stiles. The guy was trying to stay relaxed but Stiles had watched enough medical shows to know when he’s about to give him the hard stuff – that would usually begin dramatic music, but for Stiles it was stone cold silence. “Yes, your tumor is shrinking. But the likelihood of it going completely is very low, and from the scans and tests we’ve done over the past days, it shows that the chemotherapy is only going to make things worse for you if we prolong the treatment.”

“So what are you saying? Am I going to die?” He tried to stay strong but the tears beginning to well up in his eyes were betraying him, his voice wavering as he spoke and simply squeezed Derek’s hand when his boyfriend took hold.

Mr Smith shook his head; face contorting from professional to a warm friendliness as he tried to find the right words. He articulated with his hand and he explained properly about how common it was for someone’s body to start rejecting the chemo, and usually they would just try a different drug or a higher dosage but with Stiles’ health diminishing as quickly as it was they didn’t feel it was right for him. “We’re not going to give up though, there’s plenty of options for you which is where I come in. I’m a neurosurgeon; I’ve been called down with a highly recommended option for you if you want to try having surgery to remove the tumor from your brain.”

“Brain surgery?!” Scott’s voice picked up, squeaky from shock and quickly shushed while the neurosurgeon affirmed and continued his speech. Stiles had options; they could remove as much as the tumor they could reach and let the chemo blast the rest to smithereens, or they could take it all in order to cure the areas around it. There was a risk with all surgeries but with the brain being such a sensitive area it only heightened the danger, it was important for Stiles to know he may not be himself afterwards. His speech, balance, sight, memory, there were many things that could be damaged along with the dead cells.

There were a couple of surgeries that they could do, Mr Smith pulling out a folder of pictures and placing them in Stiles’ lap to have a look at while he explained each one in excruciating detail and answering any questions the teen may have asked. The craniotomy was the most popular option because it only opened up the area of the skull needed for the surgery, and Stiles was quick to agree with it if the odds were more in his favor with that one. He wasn’t fond about doing it awake though but Mr Smith assured him he could do it while he was under too. Stiles did listen to the other options; radiosurgery, neuroendoscopy, even removing the tumor through his _nose_. “With the way your tumor is positioned, we won’t be able to remove it through your nose but at least you know there are other options.”

“Aw, doc. Here I thought I was going to awaken my inner Egyptian mummy.” Stiles murmurs and picks up the craniotomy paper to have a closer read while Mr Smith packed everything else away into the folder. With the surgery of choice decided the neurosurgeon shook Stiles’ hand and left, a nurse would prepare him in a couple of hours after he’s put on the list for tonight.

Things were moving so fast, Derek calling the sheriff and keeping him in the loop of his son. Stiles didn’t want to know what this was doing to his father’s heart; he didn’t want to put more stress onto him, having a tumor was bad enough, the fall only making matters worse and now this. The nurses thankfully didn’t have to take any more blood since they’d sucked out plenty this week, but they did start the testing process for the surgery. They took him for an X-Ray on his lungs for some reason, started him on a script of steroids _just in case_ – whatever that means.

The most fun they got out of it was while he was being attended to by the nurses, they gave paper to the pack and asked them to write down questions for Stiles to answer before and after surgery. They would add a couple of quick trivia to the mix to spice things up, knowing how quick witted Stiles was. With Mr Smith there to watch over and grade the memory questions, they all had a right laugh; the pack asked a couple of simple questions to begin with, what Lydia’s dog was called, the password to his computer which he was changing immediately when he got back home, what the license plate on his jeep was – “How much money do I owe you? I don’t think I owe you _any_ money, Isaac, in fact _you_ owe me twenty bucks still.” – but it quickly turned emotional. What was his and Derek’s first date? What was the date when his dad got promoted to sheriff? How old was he when his mother died?

By the time his father arrived, things were nearly finished up and Stiles’ head was being drawn on by one of the surgeons, using a picture of where the tumor is to help when marking the area they were going to do the first incision. Stiles was out of his usual clothing and once again into the uncomfortable and overly large dress shirt the hospital provided, wearing those knee high tight socks and his feet bagged up so he wouldn’t walk any bacteria into the operating room. The sheriff’s face was weary with stress, he had tried to hide it but one look from his son and he couldn’t hide it anymore. Derek was quick to meet with him, patting his shoulder in a silent attempt to console since there wasn’t anything he could say that would make the situation better; Stiles was having brain surgery.

They didn’t think it would end up like this. None of them expected Stiles to get a tumor in the first place, and after a few months of chemo they thought this was going to be it for the next year until it shrunk. Now this. John sat down on one of the seats provided in the room and wiped his face with his clammy hands, this wasn’t happening. Why did the Stilinski’s always have such terrible luck? “Dad?”

It was Stiles’ small voice that brought the sheriff back from the dark thoughts invading his mind, glancing up to where Stiles was perched on the end of the bed. He was tiny, thin from the chemo that he could see the faint line of cheekbones and shadows under his eyes. Stiles was scared, he needed his father right now, standing up and making his way over. John was careful not to squeeze his son, knowing from experience how the famous Stilinski hug brought bruises up on his skin. Stiles gripped his jacket weakly and held on as he trembled; his boy was probably trying so hard to be strong for everyone, let his humor protect him from the fear of something unknown to him, something he couldn’t control. “You’ll get through this, we’ll get through this together.”

“I love you, dad.” Stiles didn’t want to cry; he knew the facts of the surgery and had Mr Smith there leading the surgery, he had the best surgeons in the hospital tending to him tonight and yet here he was dribbling snot into his father’s shoulder. He couldn’t help feeling frightened; there were so many things that could go wrong. He could die from this or worse he could be a shell of himself after the surgery.

He didn’t want to leave his dad to mourn for him, or Derek to look after him like his father did to his mother in the last few months. He wanted to run with his pack, to finish college and get into law enforcement, to marry Derek and live in their home until they were both old and wrinkled. He had so much to live for.

The nurses called for him and for a moment Stiles didn’t want to go through with it. He could just refuse right then and fight it alone with the chemo. John pulled away and let Stiles get into the wheelchair with a grumble, still hating the fact he had to be wheeled around like this. The nurse allowed a couple of people to go with him, Derek and John quickly stepping up and following her down the hallway and into the elevator with the werewolf pushing Stiles along. They halted at the operating doors; there were two doors separating them from the actual operating room but the public still weren’t allowed back there. Derek released his hold on Stiles’ wheelchair for the nurse to get behind while they gave the teen one last hug, Derek pecking his lips softly as a small farewell before the nurse wheeled Stiles through the doors and out of sight to have his anesthetic put in.

The two were left there and John thought about waiting there until it was over but Derek placed a hand on his arm and practically carried him to the waiting room. The pack were still in Stiles’ room but the alpha thought to not bring John there yet, let him take the moment in and have a private word with him. They sat down together, Derek hearing another set of doors open meaning they administered the anesthetic and Stiles was going in. He didn’t think his support was going to be helpful at this point – and while Derek preferred the silence, he hated not being able to control the situation, especially when it came to Stiles’ health – but he was going to try. “He’s going to be alright.”

John leaned his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his hands with an expression of a worn and tired man. “I’m thinking all the possibilities of the outcome.”

“You shouldn’t think like that. Stiles needs our hope, needs us to stay strong for him.” Derek didn’t want to argue about it. While he felt disappointed that John was thinking all the options already after just a short time that Stiles was on the operating table, he knew what grief does to a person. He of all people should know the range of emotions that someone can go through, from anger to sorrow, to plain avoidance. For John it seemed to be some sort of acceptance?

The sheriff rubbed his face with his hands, letting out a deep sigh and he leaned back against the seat and watched people bundle around the room; there were nurses weaving in and out around patients, visitors waiting to be allowed to see their loved ones, family in the same predicaments as them. “I’m being realistic, if he survives the surgery then what will he be like _after_? Will he walk or will he be in that chair for the rest of his life? Will he talk and be the same sarcastic shit that he was, _is_?”

It’s not like he wasn’t thinking positively, because he was praying to every god out there to save his boy. But he was a policeman and that came with a wired brain to think about facts and statistics, it was extremely risky to go through with such a surgery on a good day. But only a week after Stiles hit his head? The tests may have come through with the all clear but it didn’t help John’s mind from spiraling downwards. He didn’t want to fight about it with Derek, but right now he just wanted to wait this out. John felt a hand on his shoulder as Derek stood up. “The surgeons know what they’re doing, John, they’ll get Stiles through this.”

With that, the alpha padded away quietly to the elevator and left the sheriff to wait, pray for his boy and hope that the werewolf was right. Things were going to be alright, the surgeon would get everything and Stiles will be up and complaining about nausea tomorrow like nothing ever happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give me your comments!! I love hearing from you guys!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long ass wait guys!! My hand and fingers are feeling a lot better (although a couple of important fingers are still numb, but I can move them and that's the important part :D) and I will be able to write faster!  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, please comment, kudos, subscribe all all that jazz :D

It felt like years. John had calmed down from overthinking the situation and had headed back to Stiles’ room, the rest of the pack were pacing, playing games in a poor attempt to distract themselves. The sheriff knew they all had their ears perked to the operation and for a moment he was jealous of their supernatural advantage, but then he thought about what exactly they’d be hearing; the beeps of Stiles’ heart on the monitor along with the many people in the theatre, the surgeons giving orders calmly, the grotesque noises of his son’s skull being cracked open like a tin of sardines.

No, he’d much rather keep to his human hearing. Stay in the ignorance of his hope, that Stiles was perfectly fine.

Finally, after several hours there was a knock on the door and the nurse opened the door to say Stiles was out of surgery and into the intensive care unit. Of course the werewolves already knew that almost half an hour ago and had started pacing impatiently for someone to give them the all clear to see him. He wasn’t awake yet and so they could all see him but once Stiles woke up they’d have to lessen the amount of visitors; having too much stimulation was damaging too soon right after surgery. They were all lead to the ICU with the nurse chattering to the pack about how important hygiene was for this unit; hands would be washed with the sanitary gel, they’d be given shoe covers to keep any dirt coming into the room, anyone with a cold wouldn’t be allowed in. “Now, just a warning that it might be a little loud in there. Also the sight of him might be a little heart wrenching.”

The nurse wasn’t kidding, when they all got their cleanliness out the way the door opened and for a moment Derek flinched back. If it was bad for John then surely for the wolves it was terrible, while the room was white and sterile, the machines beeping and tubes attached to each patient on the beds were eerie. There were curtains to give some visitors privacy when seeing their love ones but most were open, leaving the pack to witness their limp bodies being supported by ventilators and tubes. She stopped at the closed off curtain, turning to look at everyone before sliding it all the way open and John had to take a moment and force himself not to turn away. “He should be awake soon then we’re going to do some tests on him to check his neurological functions.”

Stiles was still under, he looked so tiny like a child in their parents bed but covered in wires and tubes; both of his hands had needles imbedded to give him fluids and were already forming bruises, there were a couple bags hooked onto the edges of the bed which were most likely from a catheter and the other closer to his son’s head where a giant bandage was placed, slowly draining fluid from the wound. Another needle was taped to his wrist but left dormant, probably so they could test him. There was an oxygen mask along with another tube in his nose. “What is that?”

“Hm? Oh this is a nasogastric tube; it stops him from being sick, don’t worry he’ll still be able to speak with it in.” Pulling out a couple of chairs, the nurse left them to it after checking on Stiles’ vitals. The sheriff sat down and shifted the chair closer to the bed, his hand reaching out to take his son’s but faltering after glancing at all the needles; he didn’t want to hurt him. Derek took the other seat and let out a soft sigh as he watched his partner’s face. The silence between them all was only interrupted by the steady beeping of Stiles’ monitor.

Like the nurse had said, it didn’t take long for Stiles’ eyelids to flutter back and forth as he slowly came out of the anesthetic until finally opening his eyes and frown. John gasped and sat up more to smile encouragingly up at him, keeping his hands in his lap to not hurt his boy. Derek wasn’t so inclined to hold back, reaching out to brush his knuckles gently against Stiles’ cheek his voice soft in a tone that he only used when they were alone. “Welcome back.”

At first Stiles just cautiously darted his eyes around to the many faces there, his frown deep but not so much that it made anyone uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out but a rush of air and for a moment John was worried that the surgery did more damage than it was meant to, that it cut off his capability to talk but then Stiles tried to lick his lips and made a face that he didn’t have enough saliva to dampen them. Scott was already on the case looking around for a nurse, going to the little section where the staff sat and telling them that Stiles was awake and thirsty.

Soon enough a nurse came by to Stiles with a cup and straw, keeping hold of it while the teen suckled on it like he’s never tasted water before. She had mentioned that getting fluids into Stiles anyway they could would greatly improve his health, and of course aid him on talking. It was normal for people’s mouths to be dry after a surgery; his lips would be parted on reflex to being unconscious. It didn’t take long for Mr Smith to come into their already crowded area, standing at the bottom of the bed with a beam plastered on his face. “Glad to see you’re awake, Mr Stilinski.”

Stiles hadn’t said anything yet, letting his face and eyebrows do all the talking. He didn’t know if it was because he was scared something might have gone wrong, that he wouldn’t be the same like his father had worried about. His eyes kept drooping but he thinks that’s mostly because they’ve got him on some kick-ass painkillers that are making him drowsy. That was more than alright for him, he didn’t mind going to sleep for a long time, he feels like he’s gone several rounds with a kangaroo and lost every match.

He wasn’t impressed when Mr Smith came over and started his tests though; shining a light in his eyes so even after blinking he couldn’t see shit, making him swallow continuously – which only brought more delicious water, fuck he loved water right now, bless whoever discovered it was drinkable – and move his jaw around as much as he could. They checked his vitals and nodded which could really mean anything but like the surgeon was going to say anything out loud of the family. Next came the trivia, Mr Smith reading the first question out. “What is Lydia’s dog called?”

At first Stiles didn’t speak, the stench of his anxiety must have been burning in the werewolves’ nostrils and from the gentle squeeze on his thigh from Derek they were obviously concerned. Scott was staring at him with that kicked puppy expression, hoping that his best friend was all there in the head. Turning to Lydia, she appeared tired but that didn’t stop her from looking like she was heading for the runway with her make-up freshly applied and outfit seeming out of a magazine.

“Mr Stilinski, what is Lydia’s dog called?” Mr Smith tried again, speaking slower as if Stiles couldn’t hear him. Hell, he might actually think that since Stiles _wasn’t fucking talking_. He kept his eyes on Lydia, she didn’t want to show how distressed she was to the room but she had her hands clenched together, he knew what that meant from watching her for so many years; she was stressed and trying to hide it.

He needed to do it, needed to speak right now. If not for himself and his health then for the rest of the pack, for his father, for the surgeon to know that he was healthy, that he could talk to them just like before. He wasn’t broken. He could do this. Stiles took a deep breath and let the cold oxygen chill his throat, licking his lips and swallowing for what felt like the hundredth time, his pinkie finger twitching up to brush against Derek’s arm. It was like trying to reboot a computer that had been hibernating for months; everything was slow and croaky, with pausing to think. “P-Prada.”

For a millisecond he didn’t think he said a word he could barely hear himself but it was enough for everyone else to let out a rush of breath, his dad’s eyes tearing up as he covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh _Stiles_.”

“Very good, Mr Stilinski. We’ll continue with the trivia, yes?” Mr Smith’s smile came back to life as he glanced down at his notes where everyone had written questions for Stiles. To say the questions were tough was an understatement; Stiles never had a hard time when it came to remembering things before the tumor, and now with it being removed he should be getting better at remembering things, not _worse_. It destroyed him inside knowing he got the day of his and Derek’s first date wrong. The alpha didn’t appear phased but Stiles knew Derek had trained to use his stoic wall to hide any real emotions that could slip out. The surgeon could tell the more memory questions he got wrong the more he was becoming increasingly upset, changing the course to something else.

He had a couple of math questions to answer, being gentle to write them without moving his hand too much in fear the needle would bruise him more. Next was naming the months in the year that ended with an ‘R’, matching colors together to make flags. They were set to compete with the brain he had before the tumor, something he could do simply with little struggle. Now when it came to these tasks, Stiles passed with flying colors of course. After what felt like hours of testing, Mr Smith closed the file and checked his vitals one more time. “Well, it’s normal to have memory loss this soon after brain surgery. If you keep at it, exercise your mind with puzzles or talking with your loved ones aiding you, I’m sure your memory will come back good as new. Your vitals are a little high but that’s fine, nothing to worry about.”

Nodding once, the surgeon left and a nurse replaced him. She spoke softly to everyone that now Stiles is awake and the questions are over, it’s best they keep to the minimal of two people in the cubicle with him. Having them all at once would overstimulate Stiles’ mind and make things harder for him than it already was. John agreed that it was also getting late; they should rest up and then take turns seeing Stiles. The pack were begrudgingly accepting, saying their goodbyes which Stiles didn’t seem to flinch at because he was close enough to sleep anyway after such a tiring hour.

John was next to leave, trying to hide his yawns from the alpha until Derek basically pushed him to the door saying he needed to rest for Stiles and he had to get up early for work, crime wouldn’t wait for Stiles to get better. Since no one was there to pull him away, Derek stayed put all night and refused whenever a nurse asked if he should leave. They gave up around three in the morning, just handing the werewolf a blanket to keep him warm.

The next time Stiles woke up there was only Derek with him, hunched down in the uncomfortable looking chair half asleep with a blanket covering his legs. The curtain was closed, giving them a sense of privacy from the other patients and their loved ones. The monitor gave him away, his heartbeat picking up now he was awake that it made Derek’s eyes open fully and sit up, leaning over until his elbows rested on the bed. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Stiles’ voice was back to being croaky, sipping the water from the straw when Derek held the cup of water out for him to drink. He cleared his throat and nestled back down onto the pillows, finally relaxing now that he didn’t have to put a brave front up for his father. This shit hurt, while the pain medication was working its magic on his head, he still had an ache that wouldn’t go away. Derek seemed to know everything, probably scenting the small hint of pain wafting off him from his throbbing head and taking his hand gently to draw the teen’s pain out while keeping an eye out if any of the nurses opened the curtain to check on their patient, not wanting them to catch him with black veins running up Derek’s arm. He felt a little dizzy from the sudden rush of relief, letting out a pleased sigh when he shut his eyes once more. “I’ll never get tired of that.”

“I’ll never get tired of taking away your pain either.” Kissing Stiles’ pale knuckles once he finished his werewolf mojo, Derek leaned back into his chair and let the teen take in the moment. He hadn’t taken a look at everything he was hooked up to since he was distracted by the pack and his dad earlier, along with those infernal questions. While trying to stay awake during the night to keep watch, he’d noticed Stiles’ monitor climb steadily over the passing hours. They’d had two stuck to Stiles; one for his heart and breathing, the average monitor that the hospital used on thousands of patients, the other one was a monitor for his brain which consisted of the nurses putting patches on Stiles’ head and looking at the electrical activity. It was all very complex and Derek didn’t even try to remember what the nurses told him about the machine when he asked. All he knew was that it read Stiles’ brain and it smelled like the fresh plastic of new wires and an electrical stench that came from any machine that was running for hours on end.

They spoke softly to each other about nonsense, not wanting to be a bother to any of the other patients that were either sleeping or just wanted peace and quiet. Stiles didn’t want to go back to sleep any time soon, he had nightmares about not surviving the surgery or waking up in the middle and watching the surgeon poke and prod at his brain like some kind of puppet and the surgeon had the strings. They talked throughout the night and when they couldn’t think about anything else to say, Derek pulled out his phone for them to play games on; it was good for Stiles’ stimulation after all. The teen couldn’t fully move with all the wires and needles getting in the way of his functioning so Derek became his fingers for the time being, swiping and tapping the screen whenever he was ordered.

It was just hitting daybreak, the light peeking through the small amount of windows in the spacious room. Derek’s eyes were getting heavy and his phone charging on the arm of his chair, asking permission from a nurse if he could plug it in. It was always important to get the go ahead before using any of their equipment since it may be used for more necessary items. He didn’t really sense it at first due to him being up for nearly a day and a half – not including the ten minute nap he had earlier in the night – and running on fumes. It was only when Stiles began to frown deeply, blinking multiple times as if to get something out of his eye. “I don’t feel so good, Der.”

That got the alpha wide awake within seconds, leaning in and taking Stiles’ hand in his. That’s when he scented the air around his boyfriend; it was so familiar to him since he’d followed Erica for a week before confronting her, how she’d smelt whenever she started convulsing. Apparently it was called an ‘aura’, the sense that something was going to happen before it did. It’s how guide dogs came about since they can sniff out the aura and help their owner before it hit, or get someone to assist. It showed up differently in everyone but it always smelt the same. Stiles was going to have a seizure.

Derek was out of his chair like a rocket, sliding the curtain back and hurrying over to the nurse’s station to alert them. Quick as a flash two women ran to Stiles’ bed and pulling his bed down flat, they told Derek to stay behind the yellow line and out the way so they can help Stiles. All he could see were his boyfriend’s legs; it was like they couldn’t decide what they wanted to do, stuck between jerking violently and straining with his body tensing up. One of the nurses grabbed his arms and held them to the bed, only then could Derek get a fraction of a second to see Stiles’ face contorted in horror. His mouth was open but he wasn’t making any noises tense puff of breath, Derek could only see the whites of Stiles’ eyes as they were rolled back into his head. The monitor’s connecting to Stiles were beeping manically, one nearly getting pulled out of the socket from his recent flailing.

It was like watched your world crash and burn right in front of your eyes and you were forced to watch it collapse. He couldn’t do anything but wait as their usual nurse grabbed a syringe, forcing it into Stiles’ system and letting the drugs work their magic on bringing the teen down. It didn’t happen quickly, but he was calming enough for the woman to let go of Stiles’ still shaking wrists which were most likely going to bruise tremendously later on. Finally, Stiles slumped down on the bed limply and if it wasn’t for Derek’s supernatural knowledge of listening to his boyfriend’s heartbeat, he would have assumed he’d died. “He should be out for now; I paged Doctor Smith so he should be here soon to talk with you.”

Derek was allowed back by his mate’s side, trying to fix the things that he could whilst knowing he can’t save Stiles the way he _would_ if he got his permission. So instead he neatened the sheets and tucked Stiles in, fluffing up the hospital pillow as well as the one he brought in from home, knowing that Stiles can’t sleep properly without it. Derek knows it’s useless but he wants to keep busy, doing things he knows he can.

Mr Smith arrived a couple of minutes later; his hair askew from not wearing his surgery cap and wearing glasses instead of his contacts with his shirt untucked from his trousers, it was clear that he must have been sleeping in his office or something. Nice to know someone cared enough to stay in the hospital and be on call for his patients, unlike some doctors who go home for the day and leave the rest for the other on the night shift. Smith didn’t seem to care that he appeared unprofessional, checking over Stiles with precision before letting out a deep sigh and turning to Derek. That wasn’t an uplifting sound. “What is it? Is he going to be alright?”

The surgeon sat down on the other chair provided and faced Derek fully, his face scrunching up in thought. “It’s common after brain surgery that the brain swells up, we usually give our patients steroids to cancel out the swelling and bring the pressure down so something like a seizure doesn’t happen. But, because we were hasty with bringing Stiles up to the operation room the steroids we gave mustn’t have worked enough, his brain is very swollen at the moment.”

“So what does this mean? Give him more steroids, bring it down.” It shouldn’t be that difficult, if Stiles just kept getting the drug he needed then this wouldn’t be a problem. Mr Smith made a grim face, trying to hide it quickly with a cough into his fist.

“We’re going to keep a very close eye on him but if it continues to swell then we’re going to have to resort to surgery once more to forcefully reduce the pressure.” Derek’s face faltered; going through brain surgery was already so taxing on Stiles’ body which was struggling to keep up from the chemo and now this. He hoped that it wouldn’t have to come to that, turning his head to watch Stiles’ unconscious face washed with peace. Mr Smith continued as Derek reached out to hold Stiles’ limp hand in support, this was going to be one of the toughest times in his life. “I know it’s difficult to think about such things so early after a serious surgery, but we’re hopeful. I’m going to put him on a higher dose just to hurry things along but it’s still critical.”

With that the surgeon stood up, patting Derek on the shoulder once and left, closing the curtain to give them a sense of privacy. Not that it was going to hide the wet sniff Derek let out, rubbing the tears welling up in his eyes before they had a chance to escape. It just wasn’t fair; why did Stiles have to suffer like this? He wanted to take all the pain away, give him the bite and let the troubles of human sickness be left behind in the dust. Stiles was adamant though, he didn’t want the bite.

He knows he should have called John right away but it was still so early and the sheriff needed all the sleep he could get. He decided to wait half an hour to see if Stiles would wake up before then and if he didn’t then he would. In honestly Derek just didn’t know what to say to the sheriff, he wanted to keep things in control and say to him that everything was going to be alright when obviously it wasn’t. He didn’t want to hear the hitch in John’s voice, imagining his face crestfallen and internally wanting to fill a glass with whiskey. Still it was best to hear it from Stiles’ partner, the pack alpha even though John didn’t seem to care much about that aspect.

Taking his phone from the charger to the side and bringing up the sheriff’s number – it had been installed the first time Stiles got lost in his jeep, John wanted Derek to be the one to take care of Stiles when he was at work, keep him out of trouble the best he could. It took a couple of minutes to bring up a script in his head before finally calling, his heart beating faster with every dial tone until John’s voice picked up on the other line, tired yet alert at the same time. “Derek? Any updates?”

“I –.” Everything he’d thought of just went right out the window, leaving his mind blank. Well, so much for that plan. Glancing over at Stiles’ body, Derek took a deep breath and just repeated to John what the surgeon told him. He tried to remain calm for the both of them, explaining within the best knowledge he could giving the fact he didn’t know medical definition with what was actually happening. Ah, there was the hitch in John’s voice. It was like a warble that made even the strongest and emotionally stunted men shrink back with guilt. Derek wanted to apologize without even knowing why; because he could have given Stiles the bite without his permission? Because he could have stopped a seizure, stopped the past few months from ever happening? He knew it was stupid, but he felt he was to blame for all of the things he couldn’t stop. “Maybe you should come by before work, to stop you worrying during the day.”

“That, yes. Good idea. I’ll be there soon.” For a moment it felt like the sheriff was going to say something else but then he hung up, leaving the werewolf with his thoughts and the steady beeping of Stiles’ heart monitor.

Stiles woke up before John arrived, blinking groggily and staring up at the ceiling. He felt like shit. He felt like that one time he fell out of a tree, only to have Scott fall on top of him shortly after. He felt like he was that one lonely sock in a washing machine being spun around manically until he was dizzy, yet couldn’t vomit. Letting out a groan of displeasure, he noticed Derek leaning over him with those eyebrows of doom. Shit, something must have gone wrong. Last thing he remembers was feeling a serious migraine and then darkness. His head still hurt but less than before which was a relief, smacking his lips and grumbling again because _fuck_ he was thirsty.

The bed moved him to sit upright, Derek bringing the cup to his lips and letting him suck on the straw to swallow the miracle that was tap water. Seriously, he was never going to refuse himself a drink ever again after this. He was going to drink several glasses of water a day and not care if he pisses like a fountain because of it. Derek was being so attentive, wiping a bit of water that had gotten away from him and dripped down his chin, kissing his forehead and holding his hand which, _whoa_. When did his wrists get so bruised? “What the shit?”

Derek seemed to understand why he was so confused but didn’t say anything, instead he used his time to make sure his pillows were plumped and if he wasn’t dizzy with the bed being upright. He was just about to snap for the alpha to tell him what the fuck was going on when his dad pulled the curtain back, face weighted with his worry. He was panting heavily like he’d ran all the way to the hospital dressed for duty but hadn’t brought his gun in, probably for the best. “Oh Stiles, are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah? What’s going on?” Stiles was starting to get ramped up, anxiety rising because they were acting like he was in serious trouble. Turning his head to Derek with his wide eyes hoping his expression was enough to get his boyfriend to crack, the wolf only rubbing his forehead and evading his gaze, the coward.

“I haven’t told him yet.” Derek kept his eyes away from Stiles’ increasing glare, he could smell the stress building up and smacking him in the face. He knows he should tell, but couldn’t word it properly; how do you tell someone they’d just suffered a seizure and that they may have to go through another surgery to release the pressure on their already taxed body? He was being a coward about it but right now but he didn’t want it to come out of his mouth, better wait for a nurse or Mr Smith to tell him when he could explain properly.

“Haven’t told _him_ what?”

“Ah! Mr Stilinski, glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?” Speak of the devil, the curtain being pulled back all the way and Mr Smith’s grin bringing them all out of their bubble of impending arguments. The surgeon looked more awake this time; shirt tucked in and his cap on to hide any of the bedhead he might have, his glasses swapped out for his contacts and his stethoscope hanging around his neck giving him the aura of professionalism. He moved around John to check on Stiles’ vitals routinely before nodding his head and having a look at his drain and jotting something down on his clipboard before standing at the bottom of the bed.

“ _Confused_.” It was easy to tell Stiles was trying to crumble Derek, but the werewolf wasn’t budging and keeping his eyes away from his boyfriend’s face. John was a lifesaver, bringing his son’s attention to the surgeon and away from trying to telepathically weed out the answers in Derek’s mind. Mr Smith seemed to have figured out everything that was going on from Stiles’ nervousness and Derek and John’s mournful glances.

Derek was right; the surgeon was way better at explaining what had happened than he could ever attempt at. He watched Stiles’ face, taking in the moment from the shock in his eyes turning to worry and then finally the bitter scent of fear wafted up into the werewolf’s nose making Derek reach out to hold his shaking hand. The sheriff wasn’t holding out much either, the concern increasing and asking if there was anything he could do to help the swelling go down. “Well from what I’ve checked the higher dose of steroids is helping a lot, the pressure has gone down minimally but we’re going to keep you here for another twenty four hours to be on the safe side. It’s best to just relax, take things easy and let the drugs work their magic. Oh and Mr Stilinski, please let us know if your headache gets worse.”

“I just thought it was normal to feel like this since, you know, I just had my brain scrambled.” Stiles was trying to bring back his confidence with humor, the surgeon chuckling and patting Stiles’ foot over the thin blanket before closing the curtain and leaving them alone once more. Stiles slumped back on the bed, making a pathetic grabby hand for the drink and sucking it down with the straw when Derek brought the cup over. A seizure, huh. For a moment Stiles was anxious he would have them for the rest of his life, but it made sense that they wouldn’t and it only happened because of the pressure. He wonders if Erica had the same happen to her before and after, or was it different since she had epilepsy. Watching it happen to someone else made it look terrifying, violent even with their spasms and not being able to control their body for however long. But when it came to him he was just so tired, his head throbbed and he was a little on edge. “Now I know how Erica felt, no wonder she jumped at the chance to turn.”

Derek remembers what Erica looked like before he bit her; at the hospital with her hair a mess of tangles and eyes swollen from crying because she didn’t want to take her medication, something about it making her break out into pimples. She was so small both physically and mentally, the bullying she had gotten daily because of something she couldn’t control. He had turned her, watched her grow in confidence and love who she’d become. Yes, the fact she was a werewolf did go to her head a little and create an ego but after being pitied for most of her life he thinks she deserved to be a bitch for a while.

He doesn’t regret biting her. Or Isaac either, Boyd too. Now Jackson, he had mentally slapped himself for that mistake. At least he wasn’t scaly anymore, in England far away from here with someone else’s pack grounding him.

 

\--

 

Derek stayed with Stiles all through the twenty four hours that he was in the ICU; the sheriff had to go back to the station for his shift and the pack filtered in an out, taking turns having half an hour each until they had to go home. It made the wolf in him proud to know his pack was so supportive of his mate, wanting him to get better soon. They were informed about his seizure and were obviously concerned for Stiles but he was quick to shut that down, joking that Derek was fretting enough for everyone.

It was worth it though, after Mr Smith came by and informed them that the steroids were doing the trick and the swelling had reduced nicely. It was enough improvement to move Stiles out of the intensive care and back into his room much to the teenager’s relief. Before they moved him, they had to take the nasogastric tube out of Stiles’ nose which was a beautiful sight, like something out of a sci-fi movie. He was told to move his arms and legs as much as he could without getting out of bed, to keep the blood circulating. He was made to stay in bed, a nurse checking on him every hour instead of every fifteen minutes leaving Stiles to enjoy his time with his visitors.

His room in the ward was allowed to have all of the pack inside but Melissa still kept to the rule that only a couple of people can some in if they were going to stay for a while – and she knew they all intended to – to keep Stiles from being too stimulated. Of course Derek took that chance to go home and have a shower, changing into some fresh clothes since he’d been there for two days. While he was gone it was the perfect chance for the other pack members to get their fill of Stiles, coming in with board and card games – Melissa didn’t allow them to bring in his laptop to play online, apparently it was far too stimulating – to pass the time. In the couple of week that Stiles has been in hospital he’s never been left alone, if Derek wasn’t there like some kind of supernatural guard dog then it was his father checking up on him or the pack filling up the silence with their entertaining games or bickering. They’ve been avoiding their school for making sure he’s alright, Lydia could take the time off because she was a genius and would be able to catch back up within a week, but Scott needed the education and he was throwing it to the side for him. While Stiles was flattered at their brotherly bond, he did feel guilty.

His head was fucking killing him though and as much as he loved everyone hanging out with him to pass the time, they weren’t the quietest group of friends to have. He was in the middle of their third Uno game when the door opened, Derek coming in once more and taking his seat next to his boyfriend, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He smelled the tiredness wafting off him with a hint of pain, frowning and cupping the back of his neck to draw out his headache. Stiles gave him a grateful glance, groaning softly and leaning back more against his propped pillows to close his eyes for a moment.

While he rested Stiles noticed that Derek had taken his place in the game and the noise had quietened down to a more relaxed state with only a couple giggles and grumbles from the ones that got hit by the horror that was the _pick up four_. Who even made this game, an asshole that’s who. It was easy to tell that Melissa had given them a rant before they stepped foot in his room, letting him have peace and quiet when he wanted. They shouldn’t need someone to tell them to keep quiet when a patient was resting, it was just common curtesy.

He didn’t realize he’d fell asleep but when Stiles opened his eyes the pack was gone and Derek had made a makeshift bed with two chairs and the blanket the nurse gave him. For a moment he didn’t make a noise, turning his head to the side and watching his boyfriend play with his phone. Derek wouldn’t admit it but ever since Stiles introduced him to the addictive evil that was candy crush, the werewolf had kept it on his phone with a guise that Stiles played it when his ran out of battery. Stiles was going to keep the secret to the grave that Derek stuck his tongue out in concentration when he was working on a hard level of candy crush.

It was when he lost for the fourth time and ran out of lives that Stiles made his snooping, letting out a small huff of laughter. Derek lifted his head and turned off his phone, trying to appear innocent that he wasn’t just playing the app he said is the worst he’s ever seen. Still, to keep up appearances and save the alpha from being called a liar, Stiles acted innocent to Derek enjoying his guilty pleasure.  “ _That_ bored, huh?”

“You weren’t awake.” As if that was an excuse to jam out the evil app, Stiles just played along. Now that he was awake though, Derek let his legs fall off the chair as he moved to face the bed to take in Stiles once more. “Mr Smith came in to see how you’re doing earlier; they’re bringing down your steroids. He said you can try to walk around since the pressure is down in your head.”

“Sweet, let me up.” Things were moving fast and honestly Stiles was so on boar with it, trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed but Derek was quick to push them back. What gives? The whole ‘being allowed out your bed’ thing was supposed to be so he can, you know, _leave the bed_. Derek obviously didn’t seem to get that memo.

Derek chuckled at the look he was getting, patting Stiles’ knee. He knew the teen wanted to get out the hospital as soon as possible, having been in it for nearly two weeks and not being able to do many things independently. There was also the trauma he mentioned about being in hospital; watching his mother slowly deteriorate until she finally passed away someone he barely knew. Derek understood he wanted to get out, but he needed to heal and Stiles seemed to forget the importance of his health. “Only with two people walking with you, to help ease the rush going to your head.”

With a grumble Stiles slumped back on the bed, having succumbed to his fate that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of there anytime soon. Derek took that moment to pick up the jelly the nurse had set on the table provided with a tray of small and simple things for Stiles to eat since it’d been a while since the teen had ingested solids. He thought for a moment that Stiles was going to cry just by inhaling a mouthful of strawberry jelly.  It was hospital food too, which was seriously saying something about him missing actual food.

The jelly was consumed within a minute with Stiles sitting up and nearly leaning over the bed to kiss Derek. He couldn’t wait until he got to leave and he could roll around under the sheets with his boyfriend, this is probably the longest Stiles has ever gone without an orgasm since he started dating Derek. It’s enough to make him weep again. “When we get home I am _so_ riding you.”

“Stiles…” Derek swallowed thickly as Stiles lay back down on the bed, pulling the blanket down a little to show his erection hidden pathetically under his hospital gown. It was enough to bring a shiver of want down the alpha’s spine; he wanted to grab Stiles’ hips and suck his cock, feel it hit the back of his throat, the way his hair grips his head to pull him down even closer. They couldn’t fuck in the hospital, especially when Stiles was still at risk of the swelling in his head. Cupping the Stiles’ cheek and brushing his thumb over teen’s bottom lip, he watched as Stiles sucked the appendage into his mouth, tongue rolling around the tip mimicking what he would do if it was Derek’s cock. It took all the air out of the werewolf’s lungs. Fuck, he was in deep shit. “I should feed you jelly more often if this is the outcome.”

“I could probably cum right now just from you feeding me.” His heart didn’t even stutter, either Stiles truly believed he could do it or he was so close to cumming anyway that anything would push him over the edge. How did they get to this? Doesn’t matter, he would take any chance to rip a moan out of those lips. Derek wasn’t too far behind either, his own cock hidden tight beneath his jeans and twitching with his pulse. It’d only been a couple of weeks but he was aching to be inside Stiles, to feel him come apart under his hands, on his cock.

The door opening was like a splash of freezing water on their parade, both turning their heads to see a nurse coming in with a polite smile completely unaware that she’d broken a _moment_. Stiles was almost desperate enough to tell her to come back in a few minutes, but Derek was already leaning away from his grasp. The nurse checked him over, pressing a couple buttons on the monitor and giving him an injection – if he still had any trace of arousal then it went right out the window when she pulled out the syringe – with a lower dosage. Stiles turned his head to Derek’s raising an eyebrow and giving him a look that his boyfriend knew all too well. It was the we’re-going-to-pick-this-up-later eyebrows, they waggled twice before Stiles’ eyes darted down to Derek’s crotch and back up to his face. God Stiles knew exactly how to get his blood boiling in the best and worst of ways, he was quick to adjust himself before the nurse could see how hard he was, practically leaking into his jeans. Oh they were going to finish what they’d started alright, when he could take Stiles apart piece by piece and leave him screaming for more, when he was able to cum without his brain exploding. This wasn’t over and they both knew it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for keeping you guy waiting for so long, ugh I'm an asshole. But it's finally here, this is the end of Sick!! Have 12,000 words of fun, fluff and sex!
> 
> The next chapter will be the epilogue!

Recovering wasn’t as difficult Stiles thought it was going to be, especially with Derek there every step of the way. Literally. When Stiles had to walk around with help, Derek was there holding up one of his arms aiding him with Melissa on the other side helping him walk around. Something about stopping the blood from rushing to his head if he tried to stay upright on his own, Stiles called bullshit but he wasn’t taking any chances if it was going to get him out the hospital faster. At least they took out his drains; they tugged at his head painfully and while it hurt and felt _so_ fucking weird having them out, the relief after was enough for Stiles to sigh out a breath of satisfaction that made Derek look elsewhere.

At least Melissa started allowing the rest of the pack in, dropping her rule of only two people. There was only so much sexual tension he could take before he would have locked the door and ridden Derek right then and there, bursting brain cells be damned. The smell of his arousal must have been deafening to the wolves’ noses at times, but he wasn’t sorry because he knew it was driving Derek crazy. It was like the alpha was a glass of water and Stiles was the leaky tap; every time water dripped in, Derek was that much closer to overflowing. He couldn’t wait until Derek finally snapped and just fucked him into the mattress, sure he would bruise a goddamn peach but it would be _so_ worth it.

He’s been hinting for days now; if you’d call hinting as Stiles practically eye fucking Derek whenever they were alone – which was a _lot_ – and Stiles sitting up on the edge of the bed with his feet on Derek’s thighs, legs spread with only his hospital gown hiding his crotch. He couldn’t wear constricting clothes yet since he still had tubes that would get in the way so Stiles used that excuse to just wear the gown and tease the fuck out of Derek with it. He could tell it was slowly driving the alpha insane, his nostrils flaring whenever Stiles felt a wave of arousal while staring at Derek’s crotch or lips or really anywhere on his boyfriend’s body because it was all fucking sexy and he wanted to lick every inch.

Him not being able to cum was so bad that when they took his catheter out he had to think of dead puppies and kittens to not get a boner right in the nurse’s face. It didn’t help much though, but at least she was out of the way before it really got hard. Fuck his life, a catheter was meant to be _un_ sexy yet there he was with a boner because the tube rubbed the inside of his dick _just_ the right way. Well, any way was the right way. When the nurse left he turned to Derek who had been playing on his phone in order to not stare at his boyfriend’s dick, grinning as he lifted his gown. “Dude, we are _so_ trying sounding one day.”

“Do I want to know what sounding is or…?” Derek appeared dismayed that he was being dragged into the realm of dirty talk again, knowing it would lead to him squashing his hard-on with boner killing thoughts. He didn’t look down at Stiles’ crotch, keeping his eyes trained the teen’s face. After being told what it was, turns out Derek definitely _wasn’t_ into sounding by the way he cringed in faux pain.

Stiles’ attempt at being sexy in a paper gown aside, it seems he and Derek were becoming a gossip trend for the nurses. The alpha had been listening in on some of their conversations and apparently it had been circling for a while about how Derek never left his lover’s side for two, nearly three weeks. ‘Why can’t I get me a man that won’t leave my side like Derek Hale?’ they say, along with a couple other remarks of how handsome – they didn’t use that word but he doesn’t want to think about what they _actually_ said – Derek was, one of the nurses saying smugly how she walked in while he was doing press ups shirtless one time while Stiles was asleep. Little to say Derek didn’t repeat that one to Stiles, the teen was already doing that jealous bragging that he was the one who got to see Derek’ cock at the end of the day. Melissa was wise enough to stay out of the gossip.

The day that Stiles was allowed to leave dragged on _forever_. Mr Smith checked him over for the final time and declared Stiles as healthy as he could be for someone with cancer, patting the teen on the shoulder and letting a nurse write up the discharge paper. Stiles wanted to call his dad up personally and tell him he was leaving the hospital, hearing the relief in his father’s voice that he could come home and he’d be able to see his son safe. Even with him now being able to be discharged, they had to wait for three hours until the nurse came in with the papers and a wheelchair because Stiles still want allowed to exert himself. Derek pushed obviously while Stiles read the papers loudly throughout the hallway even though he didn’t need to, but fuck it; he was going to see his house for the first time in three weeks.

Getting dressed was something out of a comedy show. He didn’t mind being naked and definitely didn’t care that Derek was helping him, getting all up in his junk. The mood was totally ruined with a nurse also assisting him with standing up long enough for Derek to slip Stiles into some comfortably loose sweatpants. He just thinks the lady wanted to have one last glance at his dick before it left the building, or maybe she just really needed to see Derek on his knees because, well, that was a sight to behold.

There were many ways Stiles thought his first day back from the hospital would go; no one would be home besides him and Derek and they’d fuck on the sofa, then the bed, then the shower, basically anywhere. Another idea was his dad coming home early from work and meeting them to have an early dinner and relax on the sofa watching movies all night until they fell asleep. Maybe the pack would come over to puppy pile too and argue about the types of genres only for Stiles to win because, hey, he _was_ the one that came back from the hospital and he got to choose without any complaint.

What Stiles didn’t think would happen when he came home was all the pack there and a banner across the wall of his living room reading ‘welcome back, pack mum’. With his father out in the garden with barbecue on and a couple slabs of steak slapped on top of the grill. The kitchen was a mess of food; from meat to vegetables and snacks set out in bowls, in the middle was a cake with another welcome back sign on it written in frosting from the look of it. “Holy shit.”

“Stiles!” Scott was the first to approach from the hoard of supernatural pack members that had heard them pulling up in the driveway, leaning down awkwardly to hug his best friend. Quickly followed by Lydia who shooed everyone else away from hugging distance while Derek manoeuvred Stiles out of the wheelchair and onto the sofa so he could relax, collapsing the chair and setting it to the side out of the way of the commotion. Isaac was quick enough to take the seat next to Stiles, nuzzling his shoulder and rubbing his scent into the teen in hopes that the sanitising smell of the ward will leave him in replace of pack.

Stiles wanted to help out with the food prep or at least go into the kitchen, but Mr Smith was so right about him being exhausted at the minimal things. All he’d done was get out of the hospital, into a car and then get hugged and he was already tired. This was apparently going to last for a couple of weeks after such a huge surgery, something for him to look forward to. His dad came in after a while with a plate of soft food for him to eat and looked damn smug about it. “Looks like you’re not allowed to eat meat either.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” He didn’t know if he could eat this much, living for the past week on nothing but jelly and the weird hospital milkshakes prepared. His jaw was going to ache like a mother fucker after a couple of cucumber slices. The pack had gone crazy on the amount of meat that’d been cooked, piling the food into small mountains on their plates and sitting around Stiles. Derek had joined in too, using his alpha status to steal a couple of prime cuts from his beta before relaxing on the carpet by Stiles’ feet.

John sat in his usual chair, kicking his feet up with his own plate of goodies – even though Stiles wasn’t there at the time, he’d prided himself when buying meat that wasn’t super fatty and only have a couple pieces knowing his son was going to rip him a new one if he had any more – and digging in with a beer on the coffee table. “I’m going to milk this for a while.”

With a scoff Stiles tried to get more comfortable, using Derek’s shoulders as a leg rest. He didn’t seem to mind, kissing the teen’s ankle and continuing to eat from his mountain of a plate. They decided to watch a movie together while they ate with the exception of Stiles just nibbling on his veggies, the pack all deciding on watching Sharknado because why the fuck not. It was a terrible film but at least they all got a laugh out of it, Derek even chuckled at one point for it was counted for a win.

The doctor wasn’t kidding about him being exhausted; after just half an hour through the movie Stiles’ eyelids began to droop, blinking in attempt to keep himself awake. His plate was left on the arm of the sofa with bite marks in each piece of food, his jaw had begged him not to have anything else that requires chewing until a later date. In the end the sleep won out, Stiles’ head resting limply on Isaac’s shoulder. The beta had stiffened like a board, not moving an inch in order to make sure Stiles wouldn’t wake up from any movements. He didn’t dare to eat the remains on his plate in case the jostling would wake Stiles up, even though they all knew that once Stiles had gone to sleep he wouldn’t wake up for anybody.

He stayed like that until the end of the movie, the pack getting up to stretch their legs and clean up the food from the kitchen. Derek already knew Stiles had passed out so when he gently lifted his boyfriends legs off his shoulders and turned around to see Isaac staring up at him with his neck at an awkward angle to make room for Stiles’ head. Pride swelled up in Derek’s chest knowing that his beta would do anything to make sure the alpha’s mate wasn’t disturbed in any way, leaning down to carefully lift his boyfriend up into his arms. “I’ll take it from here, go help the others.”

Derek watched Isaac stand u with his plate and stretch, hearing the crack of his neck before the beta did as he was told. Glancing over at John and nodding his head once when the sheriff raised his nearly empty beer at them both, he could smell the man was satisfied and the stress that’d been wafting off of him for days now has been mellowed out somewhat. It was always a relief to have a loved one come home where it’s safe and familiar. Derek was slow when moving, cautious not to do anything that may upset Stiles’ head in any way as he climbed the stairs to the teen’s bedroom. Stiles weighed little to nothing since started chemo and while the teen had joked about it in the beginning – better than any diet out there to help you lose weight – it did scare him. Stiles was so fragile, he bruised when someone so much as pinched him, his body was trying to work it’s hardest while poison destroyed his system in order to kill the tumor. With Derek being an alpha and the strength that went along with that, he felt like he needed to treat Stiles like he was a feather because if he didn’t focus on holding back when who knows what would happen. He could accidentally break Stiles’ arm, it would churn him up inside if he hurt his mate.

Going into his bedroom Derek was hit with a wave of pack, obviously Isaac had been there while he and Stiles were at the hospital, and had probably slept over while breathing in the smell of Stiles. He could sniff out Scott but only lightly as if the teen only stepped into the room to get something or was only standing in the doorway before leaving again. Lydia had been in there; not only was her perfume surrounding the room but her physical handiwork of cleaning was enough of a sign. She’d collected dirty clothes from the floor and put them in the hamper, organized the desk to something Stiles can work on instead of spending ages finding the right piece of information he needed through a pile of garbage. Kira had been on Stiles’ computer it seems, or doing something on his desk because her scent was stronger around there but Lydia’s cleaning had hidden anything she might have been doing. He’ll grill her later. John had been in there but his scent was everywhere considering the obvious, it was stronger around the bookcase where a couple of pictures sat; one with a family photo of Stiles as a child and a younger version of the sheriff with a beautiful woman who Derek assumes is Stiles’ mother.

Laying Stiles on the bed and tucking him in made his wolf feel content, knowing he was providing for his mate, making a small nest for him to live in surrounded by the smells of his loved ones and safe in their den. For the first time in weeks he could undress – he kept his underwear on just in case John came in and saw he was naked – and get in beside his boyfriend, just enough for him to be touching Stiles, their smells lingering together on the bed. He’d missed Stiles, missed being with him like this just calm surrounded by each other and letting Derek warm Stiles up since the teen never seemed to be able to radiate heat very well, he’d missed being able to hold Stiles’ hand and not being afraid that it would jostle a needle or would get in the way of a tube.

Pressing a kiss to Stiles’ bare temple, Derek brushed his cheek against his boyfriend’s shoulder and relaxed on to the bed fully. He didn’t want to interact anymore with his pack tonight if Stiles’ wasn’t there with him in order for him to keep an eye out. Derek was still on edge when it came to Stiles’ seizure; it was a huge thing for someone to go through and Mr Smith had told him while Stiles was passed out that it might happen again, only time will tell. He didn’t set a time or date to when it could happen, so Derek couldn’t prepare anyone on what might happen.

He took things as they came; reminding himself to embrace every day they had together instead of imaging a months, years into the future. Downstairs he could hear the kids saying goodnight to John, the sheriff coming upstairs and pausing outside of Stiles’ bedroom door before moving on to his own room. John trusted him enough to not do anything on their first night back, he seems to understand now that as a couple they’re going to have _alone times_ , as the sheriff so eloquently put it. They still weren’t going to mention that they’ve been fucking for months under this roof. Derek snapped out of his thoughts when Stiles murmured in his sleep, nose brushing up against Derek’s palm before relaxing once more.

Derek could feel his heart lurch at the trust Stiles has for him in his most vulnerable state, neck bared in his sleeping position and face so close to the alpha’s claws. He knows Derek wouldn’t dare hurt him – he’d rather die than hurt Stiles – just like how Derek had trusted Stiles not to be like Kate, that he could open himself up properly around him for the first time in years and that wall-breaking bond ties them together. Gently running his thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip, Derek watched the teen open his mouth a little before relaxing once more. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ bare head before getting comfortable on his side of the bed. “Goodnight Stiles.”

 

\--

 

Waking up smothered in teenagers isn’t exactly how Derek wanted to wake up, the stench of their body odor – probably Scott’s – and the thrum of tired arousal in each one of their bodies, part of the course when it comes to adolescents but that doesn’t make his nose itch any less. Letting out a groan of dissatisfaction, Derek turned his head away from the smell as if that would help ease anything, hiding his face under the pillow. “Ah, the wolf arises.”

A couple of giggles jiggled the mattress; apparently now that they knew he was awake they spoke a little louder, ripping Derek of any more sleep he could possibly have that morning. Poking his head out from under the pillow, he was faced with the pack trying to hide their laughter behind their hands or biting their lips. Stiles was first to act, reaching out to arrange Derek’s hair so it wasn’t so astray before leaning over and giving him a kiss, morning breath and all. Sitting up enough to press his back to the cold headboard, Derek rubbed his eyes and took in the sight of his pack; they were in the clothes they wore yesterday, except Scott because of course he would bring pajamas. It wouldn’t surprise him that Stiles left a draw for his best friend to keep some essentials in case of a sleepover. Lydia was already dressed with her make-up on of course, the only clue she’d been asleep was her hair not been done yet and tucked into a simple yet messy bun on her head.

Stiles was giving him that _look_ , the one he always made whenever Derek had to whip out his wallet to pay for something expensive or get them out of trouble. “So, we were all talking while you got your beauty sleep, and decided on me going out today.”

“No. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.” Derek didn’t even flinch, hell no. He turned his glare to the rest of the teenagers, noticing how they weren’t meeting his eyes. They knew better; Stiles was going to be practically bed ridden for two weeks at the minimum and he wasn’t going to be swayed by any trick Stiles had up his sleeves.

Stiles didn’t know when to quit though, hugging Derek’s massive bicep with his lanky arms and doing his best kicked puppy impression. All he had to do was wear the alpha down, batting his eyes with his bottom lip poking out. If he had eyelashes things would be so much easier to woo Derek but he worked with what he got, turning to his friends and getting them to join in. “I’ve been taking it easy for weeks, babe. Please, for an hour? I’ll let you be by my side the whole time.”

The pack got the memo, all doing their best puppy face – with the added whimper from Isaac, nice touch – in hopes it would win Derek over. He wouldn’t be swayed so easily by that, he needed to know facts. When and where, for how long and was there always a way out. Stiles’ grip on his arm squeezed a little, making Derek turn his head once more to the teen in question. He looked so ready to just get up and face the world, as if he wasn’t fazed with just having major surgery a week ago. He needed to relax, to be off his feet for however long it took for him to be able to walk without feeling dizzy.

Then again, Stiles didn’t need to walk. Derek remembered the wheelchair he left downstairs; if he went out in that he wouldn’t be exerting himself too much, and while being outside for too long would stimulate him a bit too much, Derek would be able to sense if he felt off and go straight back home. It was a risk and he wasn’t going to be lectured by John if it was everyone’s idea. Letting out a deep sigh, the alpha patted Stiles’ thin hands and gave him a look of anguish before speaking. “One hour, you don’t leave your wheelchair and I’m going to be with you the whole time. They’re my rules take them or you don’t go out.”

“Deal.” Stiles was obviously desperate to get some fresh air, he hates that fucking wheelchair but he’ll suffer through it if he can go outside. The pack took it as a win, rolling out of the bed and downstairs for some breakfast, leaving the two lovebirds alone in their bed once more. Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, letting Derek pull him closer until his head lay on the werewolf’s chest, running his fingers through the hair there. He’d gotten over the small amount of jealousy he held for Derek’s chest hair knowing he wouldn’t grow any, like, _ever_. Instead Stiles bode his time purposely worshipping it, even going so far as attempting –and failing epically – to braid it until Derek slapped his hands away with a grumble that it wasn’t even that long. True enough, his chest only had a small amount of fuzz but it would be more than Stiles ever makes in his whole life.

Listening to the teenagers muddling around downstairs, trying to be quiet but it was obvious that Isaac was fighting with Scott about something involving food by the sound of the plates clanking. Taking a moment to kiss Stiles’ head, he sat up properly and stretched until something popped in his back, getting up and pulling his shirt on. He then got a couple pieces of clothing out the drawer for Stiles, letting him get dressed without someone helping him for the first time in weeks before standing up and holding out his arms for the alpha. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make it down the stairs, and Derek wouldn’t let him.

Lifting Stiles up with ease, Derek carried the teen down the stairs and rolled his eyes when Stiles posed dramatically at the bottom, his leg sticking up in the air and his arms out like some sort of ballerina doing a trick when the pack could see them. At least Kira laughed, he called it a win. Derek was right with assuming, Isaac and Scott both had leftover sausages on their plates and were sneakily trying to snatch the last one. It reminded him of when he was younger, battling with Laura for their mother’s leftovers and always losing, his sister laughing and enjoying her leftover feast while sitting on his struggling body.

He snapped out of his memories when Stiles wriggled to get down, setting him on his feet but not letting go of his arm in case the teen fell over. They walked together to the kitchen like some kind of supernatural-slash-human train, Stiles shooing the werewolves out the way before grabbing the saucepan and some ingredients from the fridge. “So, pancakes and then we explore the outdoors, say aye?”

“I’ve missed your pancake dude.” Scott whined as he sat down at the table once more, Isaac standing a couple feet away keeping his eyes on the show by the stove, watching the way Stiles started mixing the mix into a bowl. Lydia let out a hum of approval while Kira slowly pushed her bowl of cereal away after knowing she’d be getting something better.

Stiles scoffed at how easy it was for everyone to be swayed, starting the stove up and setting the saucepan on top, waiting for it to heat up. Derek didn’t budge an inch from keeping his boyfriend upright and making sure he wouldn’t fall, while a part of him wanted to push Derek away and attempt to be more independent – he was just standing in one spot, it’s not like he was going to salsa around the kitchen – Stiles could already feel his legs shaking a little from underuse. Instead, Stiles leaned so his back pressed up against Derek’s chest, feeling the alpha’s huff of approval and continuing with pouring the mix into the pan. “That wasn’t an ‘aye’ but I’ll take it.”

Pancakes were easy to make; some eggs and milk, a little flour, sugar and butter along with some special ingredients to make them unique. Letting them thicken up and cook in the pan – he used butter instead of oil to add more flavor – before flipping them onto their other side with a spatula. He was going to see if he could still make them fly up in the air but decided against it since Derek would get in the way, along with his strength not nearly being what it was; it was safer with his trusty spatula. He made sure to make a lot of pancakes knowing he’d be feeding super hungry _teenage_ werewolves and a kitsune, along with his father who had a soft spot for anything unhealthy. Soon enough the big serving plate Stiles used was packed with a tower of pancakes just in time to hear his dad yawning a greeting behind him and the murmurs of ‘good morning sheriff’ in reply.

Isaac was quick to take role, carrying the mountain of deliciousness to the table while Derek helped Stiles sit down before taking his own seat. They dug in without further ado; the two hungry werewolves waiting until everyone had at least one pancake before shovelling more onto their plate and slathering it in maple syrup. His father wasn’t any better but at least he held back on the chocolate sauce, unlike Kira who just buried the poor cake. Stiles has a system when it comes to his pancakes; he cuts them up before doing anything else, giving each piece a squirt of whatever he decides should be on that slice. After cutting it up to the size he wants, Stiles starts blasting with chocolate sauce, adding some fruit here and there and then held out his hand to Scott who was inhaling dough. “Hey can you pass me the uh. The. Goo, the sugar goo.”

Scott paused a moment, swallowing his mouthful and looking up to Stiles who’s face deflated. He couldn’t remember at the fuck it was called, the bottle was turned so he couldn’t see the label. He tried so hard to think what it could be; sauce? No that wasn’t right. Maybe cream? No. Stiles was scrambling his brain so much it must have smelled like burnt machinery before Scott spoke up, holding the bottle out to him. “Syrup?”

“Yes! Fuck, thank you.” He felt the heat rise on his cheeks as he took it, ignoring the worried glances he was getting from his father. So he forgot what syrup was, big deal. His brain probably needed time to heal his wounds before he could remember things like he used to. At least he still knew the important things and that’s all that mattered.

The rest of breakfast went off without a hitch, with Isaac getting up to clear the plates and wash them up in the sink while John hugged his son goodbye, swiping his coffee cup and leaving to his work. Stiles let the pack mull around him while he let the pancakes go down; he still left half of it on the plate but no one was complaining. He’ll get his hunger back eventually. Derek wheeled the chair over to Stiles, seeing him frown in displeasure before letting out a deep sigh. “You’re going to be my noble steed today, Hale. ‘Of course Lord Stiles’ he says.”

“Come on then, _Lord_ Stiles.” Derek shakes his head trying and failing to hide his smirk as he assists Stiles into the wheelchair, letting the teen get comfortable before pushing him to the door, coming round the front to pass Stiles his shoes and letting him slip them on himself. He decided against getting a blanket in case Stiles got cold, instead Derek just slipped his jacket on and if his mate complained then he’d hand it over. Stiles gets warm and he also gets Derek’s scent all over him, everybody wins.

Getting over the threshold was a little problematic; the pack going out first and Scott lifting the front end of the wheelchair to carefully carry Stiles out – “I could have walked out and saved us all from this, you know.” “Shut up Stiles.” – but they got there in the end and soon enough everyone was on their way down the road. Stiles took in the things he hadn’t seen for weeks, a couple neighbors noticing him rolling by and waved politely but he knew that by the time they get to the park that the whole town would know about his new ride. Not like he hasn’t been the topic of gossip since he was diagnosed. Lifting his head up high, Stiles let their stares wash off him like a water off a ducks’ back because he was getting better, he had a pack that would do anything for him, a father that loved him and a boyfriend that has been his rock and will continue to ground him for a very fucking long time. Who cares about a couple of old women whispering about him when he comes home to _Derek Hale_.

The park wasn’t that busy considering it was still early in the day and the kids would be in school or kindergarten or whatever the fuck they lock children up in these days so parents can have a damn break for a few hours. It was just a couple of joggers doing their thing, dog walkers sitting on the benches dotted around and occasionally throwing tennis balls at their pets to fetch. The pack headed over to the playground, holding the gate open for Derek to push the wheelchair through.

Scott was first to get to the swings, kicking his legs back and forth with Kira hurrying next to him like the lovebirds they are. Isaac didn’t seem to care that the swing he sat on didn’t actually fit him since they had the harness on for toddlers to sit in without falling over. Stiles was just happy to soak in the sun by the bench with Derek and Lydia, breathing in the fresh air and listen to the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. There was one thing about playgrounds that brought out everyone’s inner child, that itch to jump on the swings or zip down the slide. There was a climbing frame too but they were a little too tall to use it not like it stopped Scott who just tucked his knees to his chest and swung from the bars.

It took about ten minutes until Stiles wanted in on the action, getting Derek to lift him out of the chair – the ground had that stupid ground bark and soil that was supposed to be for padding but all it did was slow down people on wheels – and carry him over to one of the swings, being gentle with pushing him while Stiles kicked his legs with minimal effort. The need to bring out their inner child eventually rubbed off on Derek who ended up having a go on the swings for only a couple of minutes, his face stoic as ever and the image of it just made Stiles burst into laughter and wave for Lydia to take a picture.

The hour went by without anyone even realizing; they were having way too much fun just being outside with one another and doing something that made Stiles happy. In fact it was closer to two hours before Stiles started to feel dizzy. He was on the swings again having just finished being dared by Scott to see if he can crawl up the slide – he couldn’t – when his head started aching terribly. He hated to admit it but fuck was Derek right about the overstimulation. He could feel his head throbbing from the sunlight cascading them in heat and Stiles, without any sunscreen or even a fucking hat, was getting the full blast of the Californian sun.

Closing his eyes in hopes it would shut out any more stimulation from his friends, Stiles let the swing slow down on its own while he tried to not bring up his breakfast. He should have taken the time to grab a hat on his hurry to get out the door, anything to protect him from the blazing heat, hell a fucking umbrella would have done the trick. But he was too predisposed with his mind set on just getting the fuck out of his house and actually breathing in fresh air. Derek must have noticed something was off because within seconds the alpha was on him in a flash, kneeling in front of Stiles and cupping his cheeks. “What do you need?”

“Get me out of the sun. I think I went a little overboard on the fun train.” He tried to joke but Derek didn’t seem to hear or he just didn’t think it was something to laugh about, quickly to whip his jacket off and hold it over Stiles’ head to shade him. The pack weren’t far behind, buzzing around Stiles nervously. They needed something to do, to make the situation better for themselves, to get given jobs to do. Stiles clicked at Kira, then pointed at Isaac. “You, get me my wheelchair. Isaac, run and get me something cold, ice cream or something I don’t know and I don’t care, just make it cold.”

The beta was off like a rocket, flinging the gate open and running a bit too fast for a public area. For a second he imagined werewolves getting a speeding ticket for going too fast in a school zone. Kira had carried the wheelchair out the playground and set it by the gate, making it easier for movement instead of bringing it over to Stiles which meant he was going to be either carried or would be helped to walk. His fate was decided when Stiles no longer felt the floor with his feet, being lifted into the air by his boyfriend and hurried over to his chair. Setting Stiles down gently, Derek pushed him along to the walkway once more while Kira had apparently taken over umbrella duty, grabbing hold of Derek’s jacket from Stiles’ arms and holding it above his head while they walked. Isaac wasn’t far behind, coming back with a double scoop ice cream and handing it over to Stiles who was quick to dig in.

Stiles wanted to argue that all the attention was too much; he would be fine in an hour once he was out the heat. He was as stubborn as his father when it came to looking after himself, he didn’t want the people he loved treat him with pity, like a deadweight that couldn’t take care of himself, that needed help for everything. No, Stiles hated that. Not like he could do something about it right now though, with his head aching and dizziness setting in. So he sucked it up, licked at his ice cream and shut his mouth while the pack rushed him home as quick as they could without picking up any onlookers who might want to know why a bunch of teenagers – and Derek – were running around with a cancer patient like a fucking demolition derby.

The pack wheeled him home in what felt like record timing, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were scorch marks in his wake. Scott took the keys and opened the door, lifting the wheelchair once more with Derek over the doorframe before pushing Stiles in so they could get him situated on the sofa to relax. Stiles was just happy to be out of that damn chair, it was a death trap waiting to happen. He’d finished his ice cream though, munching on the cone and finding some chocolate at the bottom as a surprise.

Derek was fussing around him, grabbing the fan from his bedroom and bringing it down to sit on the coffee table, plugging it in and giving Stiles a gentle breeze. He was like a mother hen when he got like this, making sure everything had to be perfect for Stiles’ comfort. He’d had enough, clicking his fingers and watching how Derek stopped immediately and turned to him. “C’mere, just sit with me you big goof.”

The pack had the right idea, sitting around him and leaving a space for Derek next to him but otherwise taking up all the room on the seats. After checking that the wheelchair was put away against the wall, the grumpy alpha finally gave in and sat down, letting Stiles pull him closer until his nose was pressed into the teen’s neck. Stiles didn’t shy away, running his slim fingers in Derek hair and tilting his head to accommodate his new werewolf barnacle. He felt better now he was out of the sun, the dizziness had faded enough that the world wasn’t spinning and his nausea was practically gone, mouth only filling with saliva a couple of times. Stiles could hear Derek taking deep breaths against his neck, he probably smelled of sweat and ice cream but didn’t complain. It was a dramatic day for everyone and Stiles doubts that Derek would let something like this happen again anytime soon, fuck. At least his dad didn’t know anything; they were going to keep it that way.

 

\--

 

A few days went by without any hiccups. Stiles was getting stronger every day and made it verbally known that every time he got up without help that it was another day closer to not having to use that fucking wheelchair. Honestly, it was one of the worst things he’d ever had the unfortunate luck of using. At least now he’d pimped it out; he and Kira were bored and it was just sitting there mocking him so he figured, why not? Stiles knew he had crafts stored away somewhere. They made an afternoon making little fire stickers, entwining the wheels with multicolored tinsel and painted the back of the seat with ‘I couldn’t afford a magic carpet’.

Sadly most of the pack had left, going back to their universities after spending so long away – really Stiles felt guilty that they’d stayed off _this_ long, just so they could be with him, Scott would probably have to go to Sunday school to catch up on what he missed out – but Kira had stayed back. She’d really been his source of fun while he was recovering; playing video games with him, Isaac joining them when he got back from work with Deaton, she’d helped him when it came with his memory exercises and thought up a few more just to keep Stiles interested.

In fact she was more of a help than he thought, she was the bringer of good news with everyone in the pack. Brightening their days with her smile and goofy attitude. This time it was more heart-warming, she’d obviously found a way into his laptop – he still didn’t change his password from when he told everyone in the hospital, he’d have to change that soon – and uploaded pictures into a file. She’d then set the one with everyone together on Stiles’ living room sofa, bundled together like a tin of sardines so they could fit into the photo frame. It had everyone in it, even Melissa and his dad. Stiles was in the middle, with Derek on his left and Isaac to his right, Scott sat on the arm of the sofa with Kira between his legs, his arms around her waist. Malia was on the floor leaning against the sofa looking confused, Stiles thinks she didn’t really know what a camera was and why they had to wait for it to take a picture. The sheriff, Melissa, Parrish and Lydia stood round the back of the sofa, his dad with his hands on Stiles’ shoulders with a small but proud smile. Jordan had his arm over Lydia’s shoulder, his uniform still on and his grin wide enough to show off his pearly whites.

There were some other photos in the files that he didn’t even know were being taken, like Stiles in the hospital playing board games with everyone. Scott in his wheelchair getting pushed down the hallway by Isaac, then the next picture of Melissa’s discipline face with her finger pointed at the two teens, their heads bowed and Stiles could tell they were being told of for not only disrupting the ward with their fun but for probably crashing his wheelchair while they were at it. Dr Smith was even in a couple to Stiles’ surprise, one of them with the surgeon smiling at the camera while doing something with Stiles’ drains – fuck was he happy to have them removed, they were a nightmare.

Stiles didn’t really know how to say thanks to Kira, instead he just got up from where he was sitting by his desk over to Kira who was lying on the bed reading a comic from Stiles’ collection. Getting on the bed and laying on top of her, nuzzling her shoulder until she’d started to giggle and reach back to pet his bald head. “You’re welcome, dummy.”

So while Kira was being the perfect friend he could ever have, Derek had been the worst and best boyfriend, tending to him like he couldn’t do much himself. He could and would definitely try, damn it. He helped Stiles while in the shower, which would normally lead to Derek jerking him off, he’d be his shadow in the kitchen while Stiles was cooking just in case his legs couldn’t hold out for him but honestly a stool would do perfectly fine. Derek would get things from high _and_ low places, so Stiles didn’t have to stretch or bend down. Everything he was doing had a perfectly reasonable argument behind _why_ , and his little werewolf ass knew Stiles couldn’t win against it especially if his dad had just waved him off with a ‘let him take care of you, when you get your strength back you’ll miss him spoiling you’ when he complained. One of the worst things Derek was contributing to was the fact that he wouldn’t fuck him. Just, wouldn’t get his dick out and all up on Stiles like he wanted, like he’s been asking, _begging_ for.

Stiles has been trying for weeks to get some action; being in the hospital was  a legit excuse for not getting it on like Donkey Kong but now that he was home, his bed just sitting there waiting to be defiled, Derek wasn’t taking the initiative. Sure he jacked him off in the shower and they made out while watching movies but Derek’s dick never got anywhere close to Stiles’ mouth or ass.  It was driving him insane. He’d been trying to rile Derek up during the moments where their innocent kisses turned into moaning and running his fingers through the werewolf’s hair. His hand would reach down to grab Derek’s crotch, his groans turning high pitch in a way Stiles knew his boyfriend loved, that tone of desperate bitch in heat that needed their hole to be filled with alpha cock. Yet Derek would simply move Stiles’ hand away without breaking the kiss, and distract Stiles from his mission with the way that tongue licked into his mouth.

And it worked. Every. Time.

It was infuriating but every time Stiles got pent up enough to actually say anything, Derek simply shrugged and said it wasn’t the right time to do anything. _Right time_. Like there was a set time for them to be fucking. It seems talking about it wasn’t going to be an option, and mindlessly groping during make outs weren’t working either so Stiles thought of a way to make Derek fall to his knees. He was going to seduce his boyfriend. He just, didn’t know how he’d do that exactly. He wasn’t the sexiest of people right now. Maybe he’d striptease – no scratch that, Derek would want to help him get undressed – or lay out on the bed all Kate Winslet style with maybe some sexy music to bring Derek’s hard-on back from the isolation chamber Stiles calls his trousers.

That would need preparation and a moment of peace where Derek wasn’t looking over his shoulder making sure Stiles wasn’t doing anything strenuous. For now though he was stuck with just eye-fucking Derek from his perch on the bed while the alpha was innocently reading on the desk chair, legs spread out comfortably with his ankles crossed. Stiles supposes it was meant to be domestic, but all he could think of was that his position pointed out Derek’s crotch, it was just _there_. Staring at him in those jeans.

Stiles needed to get out of the room before he ended up jumping him, getting off the bed with a small grunt that brought Derek’s attention from his book and watched in case Stiles needed help. The teen strode out his bedroom, not really knowing where he was going so just stopped in the middle of the hallway with his frail hands in his pockets. With nothing to do, Stiles just took in the view and remembered all the times in his life that he had gone through this hallway; from his first steps as a child, running down to his parents’ room to wake his parents up on Christmas day, the first day back from the hospital when his mother had passed away. From his first time in kindergarten to the last day if high school, this same carpet has been here and aged with him, the same wallpaper slowly growing old and peeling a little at the edges of the corners, the same pictures hanging up on the walls.

It was strange to think but this house was full of reminders with every turn and Stiles loved it, it showed that the house was lived in. Every scrape, dent, crack and tear had a story to tell. Some were funny stories and some heart-wrenching, but they were from his family and his friends, Stiles wouldn’t change them for the world.

Speaking of marks, Stiles’ eyes found a dent on the wall and noticed that it was probably the aftermath from him hitting his head and passing out. Stiles shuffled over to the dent, kneeling down to inspect it a little more; there wasn’t much to it, when he was told he hit his head on the wall Stiles expected there to be a pool of blood on the floor or something equally dramatic. However anticlimactic it was, Stiles couldn’t look away from the obvious dip in the wallpaper.

He didn’t know how long he was like that, just staring at the wall until he felt a hand on his shoulder, glancing up to see Derek standing over him. He didn’t seem too worried, face stoic as ever as he sat down next to his boyfriend. “What’s on your mind?”

“So that’s where I hit my head, huh?” Running his fingers over the sizeable dent, Stiles let out a deep sigh. For a moment he wanted to thank the dent, thank his legs for going numb and giving out, for making him pass out so the doctor could do more tests and find a problem, solve it, and send Stiles back within a month with barely a millimetre of tumor left. Sitting on the hallway floor, Stiles shuffled until his back met the wall and coughed weakly while he pat the dent like it was a dog or something, like it could feel him touching it and know it did a good job. “This dent was a game changer.”

Derek didn’t seem to understand but nodded anyway, hand reaching out to pat Stiles’ knee as they sat there in silence. He wouldn’t say to Stiles how it felt coming home that evening hearing his slow heartbeat, the smell of blood wafting in the air and finding him like that. Laid out on the floor in the hallway unconscious. The amount of times Derek woke up in cold sweat from his dreams that Stiles died right then and there, or on the way to the hospital, or the surgery being too much for his body to cope. He tried not to think about something so negative but the thoughts just creep up on him and grab him in the middle of the night, knowing that Stiles was so fragile that he could break so easily, seeing it firsthand. It was something Derek would never forget.

“It’s been six months since I first started chemo, they should have operated months ago. It was _this_ , this wall, my legs giving out like that. That was the game changer, _that_ kicked their asses into actually doing something to cure me.” Stiles kept his gaze to the dent in the wall, knowing Derek must have been wondering where all this was coming from. But he was right, where was the lie? They diagnosed him, gave him chemo and basically told him to pray. When they showed that the tumor was the same size if not a little larger they should have whipped that sucker out right then and there. Yet, they just gave him a higher dosage, more praying. “I had to be pretty much dead for them to do anything about it.”

“Stiles, they were just waiting for the drugs to work. They’ve worked with hundreds of thousands of people before you, and there’ll be plenty more.” A hand rubbed along Stiles’ thigh, soothingly tugging the teenager out of his thoughts. He didn’t need to say anything else; Stiles knew better than to get tunnel vision about something that affects so many people’s lives. He didn’t know everything about his health, what would have happened if he had surgery sooner or if he started off with the higher dose of chemo. He needed to get his head out of the past, of what could have been and the ‘what if’s.

It would take time for them to both stop their heads digging for any possible outcomes that could have been better; they would overcome the fear of how close to death Stiles has been on multiple occasions. Derek would eventually be able to relax without his ear pricked in Stiles’ general direction for any chance the teen could need his help. Stiles will get his life back on track, he’d go back to university and get his full ride and graduate at the same time as his friends. They’d get past this.

 

\--

 

“Derek, _please_!” Stiles was laid back on his bed, his shirt off and thrown somewhere across the room along with Derek’s, his jeans open and tugged down a little to get at his cock. Derek was hovering over him, his lips kissing everything he could touch, covering his scent over his mate and marking him up with hickeys. So obviously it was taking a while, and Stiles’ patience and dick couldn’t hold out much longer. “Please, _please_ just. _Derek_.”

“Shh… I’ve got you.” Taking hold of Stiles’ flailing arms that were trying to do several things at once, Derek pinned them down as gently as he could without bruising those thin wrists. He was going slow on purpose, knowing how wet Stiles’ cock is, how close he is from reaching climax at the vaguest touch. He wanted to make his mate cum, they haven’t been this close for weeks. Jerking him off in the shower was only building up to this and soon enough Stiles would just blow.

Stiles writhed under Derek, wanting to do more, to _get_ more. He lifted his legs up to hook around the alpha’s hips, his thighs already screaming at him for using the muscles that had been eaten away from the chemo. Right now he didn’t give a fuck, he pulled Derek closer with his legs, cupping the alpha’s cheeks and brought him into a messy kiss full of tongue and saliva. _This_ is what he wanted, not to go slow, he didn’t want to take things easy. Stiles needed it hard; he wanted to feel it for the next few days, over a week if he was lucky.

Derek let himself be pulled around by his mate, careful not to crush Stiles with his weight. He could feel Stiles’ erection pressing up into his stomach along with the uncomfortable prodding of the jeans zipper, he wouldn’t mind grinding up against Stiles with the small discomfort but when it poked into his crotch he knew those trousers had got to go. He knelt up much to Stiles’ disdain, helping Derek out by lifting his hips until the alpha could tug the jeans down his lanky legs and off, doing the same with his underwear until Stiles was lying in all his mole-caked naked glory.

“Like what you see?” He had lost a lot of weight from the chemo, his hip bones prominent enough that it sticks out along with his collarbones and the bottom half of his ribs. His arms and legs had lost most of their muscle that he’d made through hard work on the field of lacrosse or running away from supernatural bad guys, leaving his wrist and ankle bones obtrusive to where it almost appeared disfigured. His cheeks were sunk in and he had bags under his eyes, in fact he probably had bags on his bags they were that bad. Stiles was a state; while he never really thought of himself as attractive, it was the first time in a while that he actually felt self-conscious of his body. Derek never complained though, in fact he worshipped his body.

Derek rumbled against Stiles’ hipbone, licking a trail up until the tip of his tongue dipped into his belly button – yes he called it a belly button, what else was he going to fucking call it, naval? – his eyes never leaving Stiles’ heated gaze. It was a stupid question to ask Derek if he liked his mate’s body, the werewolf was always up for kissing every inch of his skin, to tell him how beautiful he was. The best part about his boyfriend was the way he reacted to Derek’s presence, his touch and words. He would pet Stiles’ skin and feel the goosebumps rise, run his thumb over his nipples and watch as they flushed and perked up under his ministrations, watch the way Stiles’ cock would darken and leak when he so much as breathed on it. Derek could make Stiles shiver with just one word, the tone of his voice enough for his arousal to bubble up and release a thick scent that was sweet nectar for the werewolf’s nose. He didn’t have to say to Stiles how much he adored him, but he loved the way his scent would change from nervous anticipation to a confident wave of satisfaction. “You’re gorgeous.”

He pulled off his own trousers, kicking them off the bed and reveling in the way Stiles’ eyes were roaming over his body. He didn’t care for anyone else’s staring, they wouldn’t even be subtle about it either, soccer mums eyeballing him in the supermarket so obviously it made his skin crawl, but with Stiles’ never leaving him whenever they were in the same room together just gave Derek a sense of pride. Leaning down once more Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’ chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth and hearing the teen whimper above him when he rolled his tongue over the hardening nub. He knew I wouldn’t take long until Stiles was begging him for more, so he took his time taking his mate apart inch by inch, stroking the teen’s other nipple with his thumb until it too perked up to attention.

He stroked down Stiles’ pale skin, feeling every involuntary twitch his body made, every shiver from Derek’s breath over a sensitive section of skin. Bypassing his cock seemed to be the last straw, kissing down Stiles’ hairless thigh he heard the teen above him choke out a sob, his hands reaching out to grip Derek’s hair. “I need it, want you. Please Der, your fingers please, _please_.”

He rumbled deep in his throat, stretching over his mate to get to the lube and kissing Stiles silent on the way back, Derek situated himself between the teen’s legs. He went low, so, so fucking slow. He knew how easy it took for Stiles to bruise and it would only kill him inside later when they would show up on his skin, blue and purple and black and _taunting_ him. Wetting his fingers enough to guide the first finger in, Derek held his wrist steady while he kissed up Stiles’ trembling thigh, tasting the salt from his sweat. Stiles tried to grind down on his hand to get more friction but the alpha was quick to give the thigh he tasted a quick nip of warning to keep still, to let Derek take his time.

The second slipped in without too much effort, Stiles’ muscles relaxing like second nature for Derek’s fingers. It made something swell in Derek’s chest knowing how much Stiles’ body trusted him to treat it with the tender loving care that it deserves. Licking down further, Derek’s tongue accompanied his fingers in stretching Stiles. He knew his mate loved being rimmed just as much as he loved performing it; he would often wake up with Derek under the covers and his face in Stiles’ ass, burying his tongue as deep as it could possibly go and making the teen spasm around him as he rode out his first – but not only – orgasm of the day. He loved to take Stiles apart with both his fingers and tongue, the way he would grip the sheets or reach down to press Derek’s face closer to his ass. “ _Derek_ …”

“Mm…” He tapped the pads of his fingers against Stiles’ sweet spot, knowing exactly where to feel for it after doing it so any times. He was rewarded with a quick inhale and the teen reaching behind him to grab the pillows, holding onto them tightly. Pulling his head away and lubing up his fingers a little more, Derek thrust the third finger inside and spread them out, watching the way his hole gaped and attempted to close itself around his appendages. The alpha moved his mouth upwards to Stiles’ balls, taking one at a time and sucking on them, rolling his tongue and feeling them draw up and relax with each ministration. Stiles was a wreck by this point, chest rising and falling with each heavy pant, his scent wafting thick for Derek to breathe in. If the teen still had hair it would have been plastered to his forehead from the amount of sweat there. Derek lapped up Stiles’ cock, hearing a whimper as the teen lifted his hips to get more. “You’re fucking obscene, you know that? Spread out on the bed only for me, I could do whatever I wanted and you’d just let me wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, _fuck_ Derek. Please, anything.” Stiles was going crazy; they hadn’t fucked for weeks and now Derek was dragging it out. It was torture of the best kind, feeling Derek’s thick fingers stretching him out and tapping on his prostate, the way he was practically bathing his balls and now giving all the attention to the tip of his cock. He adored all of it but it wasn’t the time. He needed it to be fast and hard, that he’d have bruises afterwards and would feel it whenever he walked. Spreading his legs out more, Stiles begged with his half his face buried into his pillow. He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed _more_.

He felt the pause in his ministrations before he heard Derek, his voice broken out of the husky arousal and into the more concerned tone. He didn’t pull his fingers out, leaving them still inside Stiles but moving his head away so he could look up at his mate. “I could hurt you.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have sex with his boyfriend, his cock was aching to just get a taste but he knew that if they fucked then it would leave Stiles hurting afterwards and he didn’t want to live with that. He couldn’t, no matter how satisfied Stiles was with the soreness. Stiles was, as expected, not happy to hear he was being denied in the middle after thinking they were going all the way. “I would tell you if you hurt me, you big doof. I’m not a China doll.”

“But –.”

“Derek I swear to god, if you don’t put your dick in me right now and give it to me hard I will use the vibrator and make you watch.” Stiles knew it was a low blow; they both found an interesting turn of events when Derek walked in on him one time masturbating – don’t get  him wrong, Stiles had been caught masturbating a lot, like, plenty of times and it had led to many sexy outcomes – with a vibrator and practically jumped Stiles then and there. He’d fucked the vibrator in and out with superhuman speed that Stiles was left sobbing in pleasure, drooling into the pillow and clutching the headboard for dear life.

He knew it was one of the easiest ways to rile Derek up; his cock would stand to attention at the mere remembrance of what Stiles looked like with his head thrown back, throat bared and the toy thrust deep inside him. Stiles knew he’d won as soon as Derek deflated a smidge in his shoulders. Reaching down to grab Derek’s wrist, he tugged and let out a sigh when the alpha’s fingers left him with the emptiness. Keeping his grip, Stiles pulled Derek on top of him and hiked his legs up over the werewolf’s hips. They didn’t need to go fast, no matter how desperate Stiles was for Derek to fuck him into next week.

With each gentle kiss, Derek’s tense body began to relax until he finally pressed his full weight on Stiles. He didn’t want to hurt his mate, going gentle at first but Stiles didn’t make any noises of wanting him to stop and didn’t smell of pain or discomfort, in fact he was reeking of the pure heated rush of arousal. If he just took it slow, take their time with it, he was sure that Stiles would get through it unscathed from bruises.

So they took it slow at first, Derek grinding his cock down against Stiles’ and watching how the teen’s eyes rolled back into his head, mouth opening but no sound escaping. He could just tease him for the rest of the night, giving both of the enough stimulation to stay hard but not going over the edge. Derek wasn’t that cruel though, to himself or to Stiles, so after rutting against his mate a little longer he grabbed the lube and slicked his fingers up once more, slipping two inside Stiles easily. He didn’t last very long with the preparation this time around, having already loosened the teen up but a little extra lube never hurt anybody. 

Coating his cock in a generous amount of lube, Derek settled between Stiles’ legs once more and glanced up once more to check if his mate was alright with this. Stiles just stared up at him with patient eyes, cheeks pink and panting softly, he knew now that telling Derek to hurry up would just make things longer to get going. He didn’t have to wait though, the alpha pressing the blunt tip of his cock to Stiles’ hole and slipping inside with a soft sigh of pleasure, like taking the first sip of coffee in the morning, completely satisfied with a simple taste. It was almost painful how slow Derek hilted inside him, Stiles practically thanked the gods when the alpha’s hips pressed flush up against his ass and his cock was still hard. He knows Derek just wants to make sure he won’t get hurt  but honestly he didn’t give a fuck about feeling anything after, Stiles was living in the now and he wanted his boyfriend to ram him so hard the bedframe would break a hole in the drywall. “Derek, _fuck_ Derek come on, _please_.”

“You take what I give you. So fucking tight, Stiles, _jesus_.” Derek could barely keep himself from pulling out and easing back in, reminding himself to take it slow, that Stiles would end up with bruises to last days afterwards if he let the wolf take over. Yes, he just had to keep his control. No matter how many times Stiles writhed under him or pleaded to go faster, he would take his time. This may also be good for teasing his mate slowly like this; they hadn’t done it like this for months, Stiles preferring it to be rough and animalistic. Derek was going to take it slow, take his time, take Stiles apart piece by piece.

He didn’t let the teen grab his cock, taking hold of those thin wrists and pinning them down effortlessly to the mattress without adding too much pressure. Stiles just went with it, letting Derek take complete control of the situation. He could tell that he was struggling with his wolf and although he may be gentle with him, that could change very quickly. He still wanted it hard, needed to feel that ache but he wasn’t going to fight it. Any sex was good sex for Stiles.

When he felt the teen go limp below him, Derek let go of Stiles’ wrists and placed them on his boney hips instead to start thrusting once more. He felt his wolf croon inside him, pleased that his mate was baring himself for Derek to do whatever he pleased. He let the beast have one slam of his hips as if to show claim, wrenching a shocked groan from Stiles’ throat, before resuming his leisurely pace. This way he could feel every inch of his cock burying inside, Stiles’ tight walls squeezing around him and pulsing with his heartbeat before pulling out. The sensation of Stiles’ ass gripping him so tightly as if it was trying desperately keep his dick in, never wanting it to leave his body, _fuck_ he’d missed that. “So fucking greedy for me, baby. I can feel you trying to suck me in.”

“Fuck, Der. Don’t say stuff like that.” It was like pure sex whispered in Stiles’ ear. He couldn’t help himself for his cock twitching violently before resting once more against his stomach. He knew going for Derek’s big turn on would backfire on him; one of his favorite things Derek would do in sex was talk dirty to him. Just like how the alpha went crazy for Stiles’ vibrator, it’s basically the same for Stiles listening to Derek talk dirty. All he had to do was whisper what he wanted to do to those lips, or how he was leaking at the thought of bending Stiles over the counter and taking him for a ride, and Stiles would be a puddle on the floor.

Derek ended up in a mix between thrusting and grinding, giving himself friction but also rubbing up against Stiles’ prostate and sending him into a mess of whines and wails. This way he could give Stiles what he wanted while keeping gentle. Also he got the best seat in the house and could lean over his mate to watch his face contort into pleasure, eyes rolling back as he gasped. “I’m right though, you’re greedy for my cock. Begging me for it, spreading your legs for me in public, telling me how you want to be mounted and not giving a fuck who saw.”

It was a shock for the both of them when Stiles’ cock spurted already, his thighs shaking around Derek’s waist as the teen warbled out what was supposed to be Derek’s name but it ended up turning into some sort of sob and talking at the same time. He was beautiful like this; his chest and cheeks flushed from the rush of blood rising suddenly to the surface, his eyes glazed over from his orgasmic high that was cooling on his stomach, his cock still twitching through the remnants. His hand was doing something; both of them didn’t know what, reaching out but not at anything in particular with his fingers trembling like it was freezing. Derek took hold of his hand, kissing the shaking palm and pulling the teen out of his blissful haze. “Still with me?”

“Fuck, I need, like. Twenty of those.” Maybe it was the fact that he was touch starved – and quick handjobs in the shower did not count, he doesn’t care who thought so because they were so wrong, it was basically assisted masturbation – but everything was sensitive. He’d missed cumming while Derek was inside him, it gave him something, _someone_ , to clench around and feel what they did to him.

Speaking of which.

Stiles squeezed around Derek’s cock, still seated inside him without moving. Which, it needed to be moving to make this whole thing work. Movement needed to be happening right now. Derek let out a soft sigh with his grip tightening on Stiles’ hand, obviously he was feeling it. Now that his first orgasm of the night was under his belt Stiles was ready for more, to pull Derek along with him. He was so close to his sweet spot it was driving him insane, he was _millimetres_ away and while it felt pleasant to have the full feeling of his alpha deep inside, he wanted to get this show on the road. “Der, I’m ready... Please keep going.”

It took a moment’s hesitation before Derek started to move once more, keeping to a steady pace that rubbed Stiles’ sensitive walls to a frenzy. With a firm grip on his hips, the alpha wrenched a throaty groan from Stiles with each thrust, _fuck_ it was so good. He’d missed this. Derek leaned over his mate to get at his neck that was bared for him, knowing he needed this. He didn’t even need to suck and bite hard enough anymore like before when they needed to be quiet, just a quick nip was enough to bruise him for hours. Lifting his head up, Derek kisses Stiles again, just as gently as the first time and it almost wrenches a sob out of Stiles’ lips because he shouldn’t be crying right now, not when Derek’s dick is in his ass.

Stile tried to pick up the pace, thrusting himself down onto Derek’s cock a much as he could but with the alpha’s strength easing him to slow down, Stiles could only rock back and forth pathetically a couple inches. It still did the job with getting Derek’s attention though because before he knew it, his leg was up and his ankle hooked over the werewolf’s shoulder, stretching him and leaving him open for Derek’s thick body to take control of. With his hands free, Stiles reached up and pulled Derek back down to him, not giving a single fuck if his thigh muscles were already screaming at him. His blunt nails dug into Derek’s shoulders as their lips locked once more, turning messier with need instead of sweet and loving like before. Their teeth clacked together, panting into each other’s mouths and tongues making enough saliva for it to leave a trail down Stiles’ cheek. The way Stiles’ nails dragged down Derek’s shoulders and along the blades has the alpha groaning, his hips working faster and his fingers pressing harder into Stiles’ thigh as he spoke between tongues. “So good for me.”

The filthy praise has Stiles aching for it, hole hugging Derek’s cock tight and his cock already leaking precum onto his stomach once again ready to burst. The squeezing knocks all the air out of Derek’s lungs, huffing and gasping into Stiles’ mouth before pulling back and sitting up once more to get a better angle, desperately fucking into Stiles. “So good. You’re mine aren’t you?”

“Oh _fuck_ yes Derek please, just…” Stiles couldn’t breathe properly he was so close, letting out whines with every exhale. Derek continued on, urging him on how it feels to be his, to know who’s going the one marking him, how everyone will know who he belongs to. Telling him how he’s going to cum while Derek’s inside him, let him feel his hole sucking the werewolf’s cock. Maybe if he’s lucky he’ll fuck his knot inside and plug Stiles up like he’s been begging for all these weeks. Stiles’ eyes were rolling into the back of his head, balls drawing up tight as he babbled whatever Derek wanted to hear. “I’m yours. I’m so yours. Feels good feels so _fuckin’ good_ , Der. Fuck I’m cumming, I’m –.”

He wailed out as his second orgasm exploded over his stomach and chest, toes cramping from curling so tight and legs shaking uncontrollably but Derek wouldn’t fucking _stop_ , he was a goddamn _machine_. Kept thrusting his hips through Stiles’ bliss, his own climax creeping up on him.

He could feel his climax clawing his insides, with every thrust it dragged itself to the surface until Derek could no longer hold himself back. He wanted to draw to it out, to make love to Stiles and feel him cum over and over again. He wasn’t going to knot Stiles, his body wouldn’t be able to hold out for that so he held himself back from it forming. He was so fucking close. It only took a soft moan from Stiles to have him yanked over the edge, burying himself deep inside the teen and cumming until his balls ached, feeling every throb. He forced himself to open his eyes and watch his mate, he was so fucking beautiful when he was getting filled up; eyes rolling back because he could _feel_ it, every pulse of cum inside him and it was euphoric.

They stayed still for what felt like hours but really it was only a minute and forty seconds before Derek couldn’t hold himself up anymore, too drained from his orgasm. With a brainless whine Stiles let Derek pull out and plant himself next to the teen, snuggling in close to keep the warmth, their sweat cooling and leaving a chill from the room to invade them. They were quiet for a couple minutes more until Derek finally spoke up, his voice riddled with guilt. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Stiles couldn’t help but snort and smack Derek on his arm limply, his limbs still jelly. “Shut up, you softy. You didn’t hurt me, it was the opposite of hurt, it was. Unhurt. Painless, amazing, wonderful, spectacular, astounding –.”

“Stiles.”

“My brain is still mush from two _painless_ jizzfests, thank you very much for that by the way.” Turning onto his side, Stiles pecked the alpha’s brooding eyebrows and was enveloped into Derek’s warm arms. Always a plus of dating a werewolf when you were cold; they were built in radiators. He could still feel the doubt seeping out Derek’s pores, as if he was trying to gage whether he was lying even though his heart was steady. He always felt overwhelmed with the amount of love and care Derek puts into him, making sure he’s healthy and happy and _safe_. “I can take anything you give me, you’d never hurt me.”

They laid there in silence, listening the world outside Stiles’ window; there were birds chirping in the trees and a dog barking somewhere in the distance. Stiles could hear the odd car engine revving as it drove by his house. Derek could probably hear way more with his supernatural ears, he’d have to ask about that one day. But right now he didn’t feel the need to break the peaceful, perfect silence. Just enjoying their time nestled together and satisfied filling the rest of the day with lazy cuddles, he didn’t want to be anywhere but right here.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it!!! This is the end of Sick. Thank you guys for sticking with me though this story!! I hope you enjoy this epilogue and subscribe to read many more stories I'm popping out!!

_2 Years Later_

 

_\--_

 

It was amazing how fast time flies when you’ve got so much to do. After all the pack went back to their universities, Stiles fell deep into his online courses at Berkley with help from Derek. Things were still fuzzy back then when it came to certain words and pieces of his work so the fact that Derek was over his shoulder when he needed another set of eyes was seriously helpful.

It was another five months after that when they were doing their routinely check-up that the doctor had given him their newest MRI of Stiles’ head, stating to both him and Derek – his dad had been at work and couldn’t come in for this one – quite pleased with herself, that Stiles was in complete remission. He hadn’t meant to cry but with the news and his emotions being all over the place, he’d just exploded right then and there bawling into his hands and thanking the doctor when she passed him a couple of tissues to blow his nose in. They called his dad right then and there, the sheriff had also burst into tears before opening his office door and shouting the great news to the other officers on duty, Stiles had heard a couple hollers on the other line.

Although, once Stiles calmed down and hung up on his father, the doctor went through the facts for them; while being in remission was a great feat for anyone, every test coming up negative and the tumor nowhere to be found, there was still a chance it could come back. A recurrence is possible; the cancer cells being hidden from any type of test which is why they asked for so many afterwards that Stiles thought for a moment he may as well still have the tumor with the amount of times he’d had to go back to the hospital for a check-up. There’s always a chance that the cells have migrated to a different place in the body, it could take weeks, months or even years for something to happen but the doctor was hopeful.

It was a bittersweet victory when they came back, Derek driving while Stiles texted the pack that he was in remission. There had been a group call within five minutes of sending the message, leading to a lot of screaming on the other end and some crying on Scott’s part. His dad had took a break from work to come home and give Stiles a hug, his laugh making everything alright again.

After the great news Stiles had focused on Berkeley with more intent to get out of his online courses and into their dorms; doing all of his online work with a little assistance from Derek whenever he forgot a word. Within the week he’d called up the university and said he was all clear and ready to do normal classes with the side effects of doing tests every so often to check on his health, the principal happy to hear great news, desperate for someone so bright to stay with their school and said he’d talk to the board about changing some things about his health benefits. Luckily the board was accepting of giving him some leeway about leaving as long as he kept up with his studies.

Within a month he’d packed up everything he needed and hugged his father goodbye while Derek was putting it all in the jeep because while he was in remission, he wasn’t getting his muscle back any time soon. His boyfriend wouldn’t let him go without a fight, getting in the driver’s seat and driving Stiles to Berkeley, once again doing all the heavy lifting while Stiles got comfortable in his new dorm room. Because of his late arrival, Stiles didn’t get to choose who he lived with and got put with whoever wouldn’t have a roommate. He got put with a guy who smelled like stale cheetos and buried himself in his books. He wasn’t pleased to be sharing his dorm room after being by himself for the first few months, but Stiles grew on him like some sort of weed and soon enough they were sharing without a single argument.

Of course Derek came over every weekend since he wasn’t really allowed to stay there during the week, his roommate finding out firsthand that he should vacate the premises when the alpha was around. They had lots of catching up to do in the bedroom, if you catch his drift.

They had stopped his chemo the week after Stiles found out he was in remission, finding himself stronger every day he wasn’t having the poison in his veins. He wasn’t going to be gaining muscle any time soon but he kept to the diet that he had been used to for the past six months, drinking milk whenever he could and taking vitamins. He didn’t think he would be caring about his health when he was in university, when he was younger all he thought about was that he’d go to the same place as Scott, share a dorm and bring so many videogames that there wouldn’t be any room for normal furniture, they’d be stuffing their faces with so much junk food they’d be rolling across the stage on their rounded stomachs when they graduate. Funny how things change. 

Now, two years down the line, Stiles was quite relieved to close that chapter of his life and continue with his own path of becoming an FBI agent. He had a nice short head of hair, looking more like the buzz-cut he had back in his early years of high school. Stiles’ head was the last to start growing hair, eyebrows one of the first. He made sure to take many selfies showing off every patch of hair, leaving his pubes only for Derek to see.

Speaking of, Derek had been with him every step of the way and even bought an apartment a couple blocks away from the university so he didn’t have to drive for hours on end every weekend. Stiles had stayed in the dorms instead of moving in with Derek, wanting to keep his independency as well as the once-in-a-lifetime experience of living in the dorms of his university until the very end. He kept the important supernatural things at Derek’s though, not wanting his roommate to come across it from his hiding place –under his bed.

To save his poor roommate any more torment of walking in and seeing him and Derek getting it on, Stiles decided to move it to Derek’s apartment. That way they could both be loud without any chance of having someone banging on the wall or complain to him, they didn’t have to worry about falling off the small mattress provided by the dorm and the best part was Stiles could watch Derek wolf out during sex without getting caught.

At the moment Stiles was straddling Derek’s hips, taking advantage of his new found thigh muscles and bouncing on the alpha’s cock. He always enjoyed watching the way Derek’s face changed into pure bliss whenever Stiles took control; eyes rolling back until they squeezed shut, mouth opened partly and letting out soft moans every time Stiles was seated to the hilt. Sometimes when he was holding himself back from cumming he would scrunch up his whole face, nose crinkling cutely that Stiles couldn’t hold back from leaning down and kissing him. Now though, Derek’s eyes weren’t shut. Instead, he was taking in every moment, his hands helping Stiles lift up and sit back down – he was going to complain that he can do it himself but he was already starting to ache so he let Derek do it this once.

His own cock was leaking but he ignored it in favor of getting the most pleasure from Derek; he’d been able to cum untouched before, though not in this position, he was certainly going to try or he’d get Derek to cum. Whatever happened first.  His head was down, chin touching his collarbone as he watched the way his boyfriend’s cock would disappear and reappear as he lifted up and dropped back down, the rhythmic thrusts almost hypnotizing him. “This is so hot.”

“Stiles…” Derek was awestruck at how fast Stiles had grown since he found out he was in remission, eating more and more every day, exercising while figuring out his homework. He was filling out in all the best kind of ways and Derek didn’t feel like he could snap him like a twig anymore, thumbs digging into Stiles’ hips and knowing that it wouldn’t create a massive bruise gave him a rush. He could go harder than before, give into Stiles’ whims to go _harder_ and give him _more_.

Looking up at him, Derek couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. He was beautiful; lips flushed and plump from biting them repeatedly, cheeks heated and a small amount of sweat dampening his brow that Derek wanted to lick off. His eyes were almost ablaze with arousal while watching himself working his hips, unable to stop his voice from escaping as he ground his ass down on Derek’s cock. It was like letting Stiles do this was some kind of milestone, he needed to do this to prove Derek, prove _himself_ , that he could be like he was before everything. That he could still get his lover off. Stiles was breathtaking.

After a while, Stiles’ thighs finally gave out and he ended up just sitting on Derek’s cock, grinding his hips and rolling them in hopes that it was enough for the alpha to get off because _holy shit_ it was doing miracles for his sweet spot right now. With every swivel, Derek’s cock rubbed up against his prostate and sent ripples up his spine. Glancing down Stiles noticed that the alpha was enjoying it just as much as he was; wolfed out and eyes glowing bright, unblinking. His clawed hands were strong on his hips but didn’t dig in sharply, guiding him back and forth until Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. He pat Derek’s chest as he finally stopped moving, his own chest rising and falling a bit too hard. “Okay, okay time out. I’m tapping this is me tapping, it’s your turn. My legs are on fire.”

Derek didn’t say much but his face said how much he wanted to laugh, he knew Stiles wouldn’t have been able to ride him for a full hour. He pulled the teenager down and rolled them over without pulling out, holding Stiles’ thighs and lifting his lower body off the mattress as he began his hard but steady pace. They were both already close from Stiles riding so it wasn’t surprising that only a minute later he was bursting at the seams, his mate’s cock leaking a steady on his stomach until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Derek thrust almost directly onto Stiles’ prostate, finally pushing him over the edge. Sadly, because Derek had his hips in a vice grip with no intention of letting go any time soon, Stiles was confronted with the worst angle imaginable of having his cock lined up directly with his face. There was no stopping it now; he only had a second to shut his eyes tight while his cock spurted violently onto his face. He heard Derek let out a breathless groan before stilling his thrusts, feeling his cock throb inside him as the alpha came. “You totally did that on purpose.”

He didn’t have to be able to see Derek’s face to know he was grinning, the asshole.

 

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The day Stiles graduated from Berkeley was one of the most emotional moments of his life.

He’d battled more in his life than most people; the death of his mother and having to basically take care of himself and his father from such a young age making himself grow up faster. He’d learnt how to control his ADHD after being bullied for his twitches by everyone but Scott. He had to become the brains of the operation when it came to Scott being bitten, going through the supernatural life altogether and living a lie to protect his father for years. Battling and surviving _brain cancer_. Sure he’d broken down many times throughout his life and there was probably many more in the future, but finally graduating was the thing that brought all his previous wins to the light. That made him think _I did it_.

He sat with his class in his gown and wearing his square cap, getting distracted many times when it came to the tassel on the side. He hadn’t managed to be the top in his class but he wasn’t going for that like he was thinking of doing when he wasn’t diagnosed, just lucky to be finishing at all was his goal and he’d _done_ it. He knew Derek and the sheriff was here to cheer for him so he wasn’t surprised that when he got up with his class and the chancellor called out his name to collect his diploma, he heard his father clapping and whooping in the crowd. What _did_ surprise him when he turned to the crowd was that his father was in his uniform and had brought along half of the station with him who were also cheering. Even Isaac was here, he must have taken a shift off work at the vets to come, he was waving his arms as if Stiles couldn’t see him. He held his diploma up proudly, noticing Derek was pointing his phone at him probably recording the whole thing.

With the ceremony finished; caps getting tossed in the air and most of them getting lost in the process, Stiles went off to find his group. They weren’t hard to spot since most of the families were giving the police a wide berth and oh god they came in their cop cars, how embarrassing. Derek was the first to hug him, lifting him up in the process and spinning him around. “You did it!”

“We did it, I wouldn’t have been able to finish without your help.” Stiles struggled to be put down , laughing into Derek’s mouth when they kissed. The alpha set him down shortly after, only to be bundled by the officers and being practically deafened with their excited shouting. Many of them were asking when he was going to the academy, others just patting him on the back and telling him they’d always knew he’d make it. They let him go after a few minutes of fussing about, the sheriff waving them away so he could get his hug in. There were obvious tears in his eyes but he ignored them, crowding in to Stiles and pressing him into a hug so tight he heard his bones creak. He pats the sheriff’s shoulders, wheezing dramatically. “Dad, breathing getting harder, release.”

“Oh! Sorry, kiddo.” John let go quickly, patting Stiles on the back gently with a face that showed full and outward proudness of his son. He kept his hands on Stiles’ shoulders, turning him fully so they were face to face, his eyes still wet but serious all of a sudden. Oh man, here it comes. “Your mother would have been so proud of you.”

“ _Dad_ , don’t make me. Uh. Tsk, what was it.” Stiles waved his hands over his face, clicking his fingers like that would help him bring forth the missing word from his mind. “You know, leak from the eyes.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” John chuckled out, leading him to the car while Derek got his phone back from Isaac, talking to it once more. He frowned at the werewolf until Derek noticed and turned the screen towards him and it made so much fucking sense now. He was video-chatting with the pack. They obviously couldn’t make it since they’d just finished their own graduation and were way too busy packing and moving to be here but they were all in the chat, even Malia who didn’t fully understand how technology works, only her forehead being seen from her camera.

He couldn’t really hear what they were saying because the connection wasn’t the best but he got the idea; Scott’s thumbs up with a granola bar stuffed in his mouth while Kira was clapping and Lydia was talking at the same time as Melissa. “Thanks guys! We’ll have a party when we all get back to my house, I’ll make my famous glazed ribs.”

Isaac practically lit up like a Christmas tree after hears that, grabbing his shoulders that the sheriff had only let go of a couple minutes ago, steering him to the car as if that would get him to make the ribs faster. Stiles just laughed along and let himself be pushed around, he’d already packed everything in his jeep, the bits he couldn’t fit were stuffed in the back of his dad’s car instead. He was ready to close this part of the book and start a new chapter in his life, to enjoy his time off with his pack, get  laid a couple hundred times and then pack up once more to begin his new journey in the police academy. He was ready, and nothing was going to stop him this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so lucky I decided to be the nice writer and made it a happy ending, I had such a hard time deciding on if I should make it a good ending or a terribly depressing one. But I thought, no! Let the fucking guy be happy with his hot werewolf boyfriend and long, HEALTHY future as a FBI agent. 
> 
> f you like this story please let me know with your Kudos, comments and subscriptions. :D


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